


The Only Constant

by Missyhissy3



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: (Very!) long distance..., Action/Adventure, Alien Culture, Angst, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Quite a bit of Angst really, Re-Lauch Fic, Romance, Voyager Relaunch novels set post A Pocket Full of Lies, a little bit of humor later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missyhissy3/pseuds/Missyhissy3
Summary: Back in the Alpha Quadrant, Admiral Janeway is faced with a series of events that threaten her chances of happiness with Captain Chakotay.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63
Collections: Voyager Relaunch Fic, Voyager Relaunch Fic - Beta-Canon Divergent





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net in May 2016
> 
> Disclaimer: the characters are obviously not mine. Copyright: Paramount/Kirsten Beyer
> 
> This story is consistent with the universe of the Voyager re-launch novels up to 'A Pocket Full of Lies' - it starts at the end of that novel. It won't fit with the novels that come after that.
> 
> Admiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay are back on Earth after the Full Circle Mission. Voyager is in spacedock and debriefings have just finished.
> 
> Big thank you to northernexposure for the beta read and to Photogirl1890 for the typo check xxx
> 
> [Cover photo - by jane-dee, used with permission](https://imgur.com/NNs0w9I)

__

_Cover pic by JaneDee, used with permission._

Chapter One

I thought he was going to propose.

When he called I was totally engrossed in writing a report. He said he needed to see me urgently. That it couldn't wait until tonight. Said to meet him at my apartment, that he'd be there in less than an hour. He sounded nervous, but my mind was still on the report at the beginning of the call, and by the time I started to really pay attention, he'd cut the connection.

So, I thought he might be going to propose.

At some point over the past two months, I'd actually stopped thinking of myself as fated never to find lasting happiness in love.

Needless to say, I hadn't seen the newsvids.

XxX

Then, only a few minutes later, B'Elanna burst into my office, out of breath from rushing all the way from her conference in the adjacent building. She said it was mentioned in passing in a piece she saw on one of the screens in the canteen.

A few days ago, the Federation had finally announced the completion of the lengthy negotiations with the representatives of the Breen Confederacy. And today, almost as an afterthought, they quietly released the details of the compromises that were made in order to secure our continued security. It was one of these 'details' in particular that brought B'Elanna immediately to my office. She tried Chakotay first, but he didn't answer her call.

It seems we have ceded control of the Marsadan system to the Breen. Presumably in order to try to consolidate the tenuous peace with these powerful and uncompromising neighbours – neighbours who are heavily invested in the mining trade. The lengthy negotiations focused on bringing three worlds that the Dominion had given over to the Confederacy back under Federation control. It seems likely that the Marsadan system was simply a bargaining chip – a trade off for that restoration.

The Marsadan system; that distant system on the edge of the Confederacy's territory. A system that contains only two inhabited planets, one of which just happens to be the stunningly beautiful world, rich in rare minerals, where Chakotay's sister decided to settle over three years ago now. Sekaya fell in love with the planet – and a Marsadan – on her first visit and was delighted when she was eventually offered the post of advisor on interplanetary relations. Chakotay was so thrilled that she had landed the job so easily and that she'd met someone and has started a family. He's said before she seems very happy there.

B'Elanna told me that when she couldn't get hold of Chakotay, she immediately called another old friend. He told her that there are already rumours about militant groups from a nearby system who intend to help the Marsadans try to prevent the arrival of the new Breen 'administrators'. The speculation is that it will be only a matter of days before the relocation of the small Marsadan population is announced and the Confederacy's mining operation moves in.

I'm not easily shocked these days, but as B'Elanna told me all this, I swallowed, only to find that the inside of my mouth was sandpaper.

It was so unthinkable that the Federation would let this happen that I hadn't taken Chakotay's warnings seriously, despite the increasingly heated conversations I'd overheard him having over the comm in the last few weeks.

It wasn't that I haven't listened – I have. But then I made a few discreet enquiries of my own and I was reassured each time. So I honestly thought he was overreacting, over-sensitised because of his history – that he was seeing things through the distorted lens of his past.

And now? Now, I'm shaken to the core by my own staggering naivety.

It all seems to have happened so fast that I can't believe it can really be true. I feel as if I need to confirm this for myself – as if Chakotay's strangely urgent call and B'Elanna's account aren't enough.

So, as soon as B'Elanna leaves, I call my contact in the President's office and I watch the newsvids.

And of course, it's true.

I can see now that Chakotay has actually been expecting this to happen. It has something to do with the way he has barely let me out of his sight – or out of his arms – for these past two months while he's been based here on Earth for debriefing.

I also realise now that I should have made the connection. But I've been so focussed on myself – on finding my feet, on my work and on living my _life_ again. And I've been so busy just enjoying his attentions and revelling in how incredibly good it feels to finally be with him whenever and however I want. Revelling in the passion he inspires in me and in how our appetites for each other seem so well matched, even though I still can't seem to get enough of him. Revelling in how much I unreservedly love this man, in a way I never thought I would again.

And now that I've finally opened myself up to him in every possible way – which was so damn _hard_ at first – the result has been such a revelation to me; how we seem to be so _effortlessly_ building a rich and fulfilling life together here on Earth.

Which is why I thought he was going to propose.

XxX

"I can't believe you'd do this," I tell him.

Except that I can, and I do.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn. So sorry."

I turn away from him and step out onto the balcony. I need air. But the balmy, evening breeze is all wrong and so is the heady aroma of the night-scented flowers I love so much. With my fingers clamped, white-knuckled, around the metal angles of the terrace railing, I feel like breaking something, anything, everything. Destroying it all before he can.

He follows me out. I can feel him standing quietly behind me, waiting me out like he always does, but I'm not ready to face him yet. He must know what this is costing me and I thought I had a pretty good idea of what the possibility of our separation would cost him, but maybe I don't know him at all.

Except that I do.

You don't fail to move on for fourteen months even though you believe someone is dead, fight to stop them pushing you away the way he fought me when I returned, and then just throw it all away on a whim. And everything I know about him tells me this isn't a whim. This is something he's struggled with, that he's thought through every-which-way over the past month. The fact he believes he has to leave is tearing him apart, I saw it in his eyes just now; the depths of desperation in them silently imploring me to understand.

Which is why I don't want to look at him. He believes that if he doesn't do this, he won't be able to live with himself – I can see that too.

But surely there has to be another way. There's _always_ another way.

I propel myself from the railing and turn around to face him. Immediately, his warm fingers curl around my frozen claws as he gently tugs me to him, because he knows exactly how to disarm me these days. But I resist - force myself to focus and begin again.

"You're not thinking straight," I tell him. "This situation isn't the same as it was for you with the Cardassians. There'll be no genocide. They just want those rare minerals. You must see that. It's significantly different," I claim, defiant.

Although it isn't. Not really.

We've both read the intelligence reports. We're both aware of the fact that the Breen have been known to use slave labour. If the Marsadan population – if Chakotay's sister and her family - are still there when the Confederacy arrive, they risk being put to work in the mines. Being forced into a miserable existence involving first hand experience of the numerous ways in which these secretive aliens will likely bleed their beautiful planet dry.

He doesn't reply. He just looks down and studies our joined hands.

"And that system is so _far away_ , Chakotay."

My fingertips don't even graze the straws I'm clutching at because that argument is so weak, and I know it.

He meets my gaze. "It is distant. But it's been home to generations of Marsadans, and Sekaya chose to make it her home too. It's the only home my little nieces have ever known."

I'm not giving up without a fight, so I change tack. "You don't need to go there. Let others that know that sector better than you do take the lead."

I pull away from him and pace the terrace as my argument gains momentum. "You could work from within, here, to influence Federation policy. I only made a few calls today and I already found out that this isn't a popular decision. It looks as if someone in the President's office is the driving force behind it. There are others who don't think this is the way to go. Every day they're gaining ground." I come to a stop in front of him. "If enough pressure is put on the President, all this could be revoked."

"That may well be true," he concedes, the weariness in his eyes unmistakable, "and in time, things may change. But not soon enough for the Marsadans. The council already ignored every point Sekaya and I made on their behalf. And anyway, we both know I don't have that sort of authority or influence with the Federation."

I look away to avoid the truth of that statement.

He steps closer and his fingers lift my chin, forcing me to look at him. "That's the sort of work you could do," he tells me softly.

As he lets go of my face, I reach up and press my hand to his cheek. "And I will, _of course_ I will, you know that. But _together_ , together our voices would be harder to ignore."

"I can't stay here and just wait, Kathryn. I need to act now, before it's too late this time. Too late for these people. Once they've been forcibly removed, you know that there'll be no going back. Diplomacy takes time. Time they don't have. You know this too."

And I do.

"But it's not your fight, Chakotay. You've only ever _been_ there twice. It's not even really Sekaya's. She's only been there three years. _Talk_ to her," I implore him. "Convince her and her husband to leave."

"I can't do that. I won't do that."

"But you'll be giving up so much!" I twist away from him, throwing my hands up. "The life you've built for yourself here again, your career," I turn back, rounding on him, "this – us."

"You think I don't _know_ that?" For the first time his tone of voice betrays a hint of frustration. He takes me by the shoulders now, dark eyes willing me to understand. "Captaining _Voyager_ means a great deal to me, but I'm prepared to give up the 'Fleet career again if I have to. But you must know I'd do anything not to leave you right now."

"Then stay."

"I can't."

"Clearly not 'anything' then."

"If the situation changes you know I'll be back by your side at warp speed."

For a moment I falter and he sees it, and he immediately wraps his strong arms around me. I feel myself sag against him and allow him to hold me close, where I have felt so utterly safe – until now.

But almost as quickly, I disentangle myself from him and turn towards the darkness again. "Until the next time you decide involving yourself in some distant cause is more important than our life together."

"It isn't like that, Kathryn," he insists, reaching for me again.

But I won't be pulled back this time. "Yes. Yes it is."

"I need you to understand why I have to do this," he pleads, clearly wretched.

"Well I don't."

I do.

But I thought he was going to propose.

XxX

We're parting now and nothing about this sorrow is sweet. And he really means 'now'.

I find out he came here earlier this afternoon and packed – he's been living with me in my apartment ever since he got back from his last mission and all his things are here. He's already drafted a letter of resignation and is leaving it with me to forward if it comes to that – God knows he must be getting good at writing them by now. His cousin is coming to pick him up in just over an hour in Chakotay's old ship, the _Alpha Flyer_. Chakotay is due to lead _Voyager_ out on her next mission in three weeks' time. Now the debriefings are over, he's on leave until then. He explains that they've concocted a cover story to give him as long as possible before Starfleet realises he's involved. He's taking his cousin to their home colony, to supposedly begin a two-week spiritual retreat. Instead, Sveta will collect them in her ship as soon as they arrive and take them on to the Marsadan system.

_Just over an hour_ – that's all the time left to me with the man I'd foolishly imagined I would be spending the rest of my life.

Part of me is so angry at the weakness of the Federation diplomats, at this whole situation, at myself for failing to see it coming and, of course, at him. Another part is simply flailing hopelessly. For a second, I stop clenching my jaw and my teeth start to chatter, so I clamp them together again, hard. This loss of control began the minute I realised he was going to say he was leaving.

After everything we've been through – everything I've been through – don't I deserve to have this – to have him – a little longer? Don't we both deserve more? Sometimes, the universe expects so _much_ from me. And why is there never any warning? I'm feeling so damn sorry for myself it's distracting me from being in the moment with him during this last hour.

I don't know how to do this. I really don't. So I tell him.

"Neither do I," he admits. "Part of me didn't want to come back here at all. In case I couldn't find the courage to leave you."

And, oh God, how I want to rob him of that courage. How I want to hear him say he can't find it in himself to leave me. But that isn't going to happen. I know him better than that.

He'll pull his own life apart at the seams before he'd let his family down this time. The motivation for this is coming from somewhere so deep inside him I don't have a hope in hell of changing his mind. And I shouldn't want to. But I do. Oh God, how I do.

What if he'd had his own family here? What if I hadn't been so damn obsessed with rebuilding Starfleet's confidence in me and my professional abilities since I returned? What if I'd given him the child I know he so desperately wants? What then? I find myself thinking that then, then he'd have stayed here. He'd have been torn, for sure, but maybe then his loyalty would have been here, with his child. Maybe then, he might have considered trying to talk his sister into leaving instead.

XxX

I go inside to get away from him. Make a drink for something to do. Don't make anything for him. He appears beside me a few moments later. He says nothing, but I know there's a desperate storm raging silently inside him.

I so want to be angry with him. I want to hate him for doing this to us.

Because I know he isn't going to let this go – he's so damn stubborn. It's how he's wired. I know that too. I've always known that about him. He loved me in stubborn silence for all those years on _Voyager_ despite every subtle evasion, every gentle withdrawal on my part. He doesn't give up easily - it took him seven years to give up hope then.

And despite all the points he'll make to the contrary, as I stare into my coffee I realise that I _know_ his thinking about all this isn't entirely logical. Maybe he might reconsider, if I can force him to see that?

I turn towards him as he leans against the counter and we lock eyes again. "What is it you hope to achieve by going there anyway? Will you help the Marsadans _arm_ themselves against the Breen? Against the Federation even?"

"I intend to offer whatever help I can."

"But what does that really mean, Chakotay? Surely, it means you'll be operating outside of the law."

His expression tells me I'm right and that he's already accepted this.

"Once they know you're involved, you'll be condemned by the Federation for undermining the shaky peace we've managed to establish. You'll be condemned as a traitor and a terrorist again. They'll monitor our calls, they'll follow you, they'll arrest you. You must see that."

He avoids my gaze and says nothing, interlocking his fingers in front of him, his thumbs moving restlessly over each other. Then he looks up, and what I see in his eyes sends a wave of nausea crashing over me. I leave my coffee to go cold on the counter and sleepwalk to the sofa because I have to sit down.

He's lied to me.

"They've been monitoring your calls already, haven't they?"

He nods.

The muscles around my mouth contort involuntarily and I can feel I'm going to cry, because this is too much. But I fight it back.

In an instant, he's beside me as he drops to a squat, taking my hands in his. "Yes. I've been under surveillance ever since the situation started to go bad. Sekaya has too. I expected no less. They have to be cautious. My past is always going to make me a security risk where my family is involved."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I force out, once my lungs have enough air.

"You've had enough to deal with these past few months," he soothes. And more than anything, I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"I told you once, years ago, that this isn't a safe love. And by God was I right." I spit back.

His fingers graze my cheek. "I'm not sure love is ever safe, Kathryn."

"Those are just so many words." I dismiss his lyricism with poisonous venom. Quickly, I turn away from his touch. "I should have trusted my instincts, not you."

I never should have allowed him to work his quiet way under my skin.

Now what?

Now what?

XxX

I could go with him.

But then how on earth would I give up the life I've only just succeeded in reclaiming in a long, bloody, drawn-out process that saw me almost break into pieces? I'm honestly not sure I would manage it – and he knows that; which is why he isn't asking me to go with him; why he is only telling me an hour before he leaves; why he's leaving me no choices here, damn him.

"I'll come with you," I forge ahead regardless, looking up into his eyes.

"Your life is here, Kathryn. We both know that."

"I thought my life was with you. You persuaded me that I shouldn't try to hide from what we feel for each other. I listened. And now you're leaving me."

"I'm not leaving _you_. And this won't be forever." He tries to recapture my hands but I won't have it.

"You can't guarantee that! Anything could happen out there."

"We'll be together again. I have to believe that."

"Well I can't. I don't believe in fairy ta-" Distress finally swallows my words.

He slides in next to me on the sofa and, despite how much I hate him right now for doing this to us, I can't find it in me to push him away this time.

His fingers gently turn my face towards him so I can't avoid his gaze.

"No amount of time, space or distance is going to stop me loving you. And I'll find a way back from this. I have to or I'll-"

"You'll die trying? " I find my voice again.

"I-"

I kiss him. Hard. Just to shut him up.

XxX

A few moments later, I pull back. "I can't do this," I blurt out. "If you're going to go, then just go – now."

"Kathryn, don't," his soft voice caresses. "Please don't make me leave right now."

He already told me we only have just over an hour before he needs to leave. When was that? How long ago? Ten minutes? Twenty?

"Even if you can't forgive me for what I'm about to do-" Suddenly he's enfolding me in his strong arms, brooking no resistance this time, pressing his lips against my temple. "Please don't make me leave now," he begs.

I hear a whimpering sound and I realise belatedly it escaped from my own throat as I struggle to turn my face away from him. Strong gentle hands stop me and soft lips graze mine and the pull of everything we've been together since my 'return' is just too strong. For a split second I wonder if I'll ever be able to deny this man anything again?

And then, suddenly, it feels like maybe there's still a chance. Because lately, when we use this language, misunderstandings are rare. So, I change my mind, and allow my body to turn into him. I begin to entertain a desperate hope that maybe this will bring him to his senses. Maybe loving me here, now, in these last few minutes will mean he won't be able to go through with this?

And there's something else going on here too. The new harder part of me vows to wring every last vestige of joy out of this impossibly unpredictable life.

So, I put my all into loving him, right there on the sofa. The shirt he'd changed into can't come off fast enough for me and my hands are on him, making him buck and strain against me, in case it's the last chance I get. Because in case my hope is misplaced, the new harder part of me, the part that doesn't share his optimism about us seeing each other again, is not above using to my advantage every little thing I know about what undoes him the most and what's most likely to keep him here.

Before I know it I've got him flat on his back and I'm almost naked, straddling him, his hands clamped tight around my hips. I feel his stomach muscles tense beneath me as he levers himself up to sitting to bring his talented mouth to one of my breasts while a hand strokes its way up my body to massage the other. I run my fingers through his thick hair, close my eyes and let my head fall back as I arch into him. In that moment, I can't believe he'd ever leave me.

"Say you'll stay," I demand.

"I love you so much," he murmurs against my breast, ever the tactician.

Then his teeth tease my nipple and his large hands slide inside my panties and I cease caring about anything other than this moment.

But my response is fuelled by an explosive cocktail of anger and undeniable need and he's so hungry for me that he can barely control himself. The resulting frenzy leaves us both flushed and breathless and, before I know it, he's swept me up in his arms and we're crashing onto the bed in the next room without calling for lights.

When he has me laid bare and stretched out against him, moaning his name, I realise that now, for better or for worse, he knows how to get inside me in every way. No matter what he does or where he goes, I doubt I'll ever manage to completely exorcise him from my heart again. It isn't without a certain irony, given the sway I believed I had over him in the early years of our friendship, that I realise I was a fool earlier to think I'd be capable of manipulating him now in this arena to get what I want in another.

He loves me with a fierce devotion that brands my frightened heart and for a few blissful minutes our joining negates everything as our bodies align and lock together. But not for long. These days, I'm more used to giving voice to my feelings. I can only sustain that level of denial for a very short time…

Even Chakotay can't convince me everything is going to be all right now.

And, in fairness to him, he doesn't even try. He just holds me as we lie, sealed together, his hands never quite still, his fingers ghosting over my back, my hair, my face with a desperate tenderness. Even when a sudden gust of evening air from the rising wind in the bay below blusters through the apartment over our cooling skin, causing the drapes to billow out in alarm, we still don't move.

Time slowed earlier, but not anymore, not now. Now, it isn't on our side. My ear still sealed to his chest, I count the heartbeats, wondering how many more there'll be.

Then, time runs out completely and his cousin calls to say he's waiting.

Chakotay has arranged a site-to-site, so he can stay here until the last possible moment. It's all I can do not to launch myself and grab hold of him as he dematerialises right in front in me, his eyes never leaving mine.

And he's gone.

This short uncomplicated chapter in our life together ends with brutal abruptness. It's quite possible our life together is over.

I go back out onto the terrace and I wrap myself in his thick woven blanket – the one that has travelled even further with him than I have. When it fails to warm me, I have an urge to toss it over the balcony, but I find myself immobilised here.

He's abandoned me. Whatever else he's doing for whatever reasons, he's abandoned me, that's how this feels.

I should call someone, Phoebe? My mother? But I don't.

On the back of this thought I realise something else, and my heads spins for a moment even though I'm sitting down. I didn't organise a way to contact him without our calls being monitored. He wouldn't suggest it. He would want to protect me from any involvement in whatever he does from this point. But I can't believe that I didn't insist we find a way. That I didn't even _think_ of it.

So I sit, until the insides of my heart harden to match the veiny blue-grey of the marble tiles beneath my feet. I just sit, unfocused eyes on the dim yellow light of a small boat in the bay. Slowly, it blinks its way past and then gradually dissolves into the darkness stretching out below me.

[TBC]


	2. Chapter 2

The following day, I wake, far too early, and so starts the next chapter of my life.

I yearn to be allowed to sink back into the ignorance semi-consciousness allows. Because for a split second I believed there's a space beside me because he's in the shower, or in the kitchen making the coffee, or he's sitting on the terrace reading, pale gold in the bright morning sunshine.

Although the room is cool, I find I'm strangely hot so I push off the covers. After a few minutes, the metal taste in my mouth causes me to drag myself out of a bed that suddenly seems too large. In the bathroom I stand in front of the basin, but find I'm unwilling to look at myself in the mirror. My eye catches on the angles of the thick glass bottle of cologne on the shelf, so I close my eyes. I inhale deeply, gingerly beginning to take an inventory of my state of mind.

I discover that the bad taste in my mouth this morning is bile. I discover I'm too warm because there's a white-hot fire raging through my veins. I make no attempt to suppress this feeling, but let it flow over me. I'm so, so angry with the man I've been sharing my hopes, my fears, my _life_ with.

With one sudden swipe, I knock the angular bottle from the shelf so it shatters on the tiled floor. The fumes that rise from the smashed remains momentarily colour my senses with him, so I turn my back on them and stalk out.

Chakotay should have asked me for help.

He should have shared _all_ of his fear about this disaster-waiting-to-happen with me. He should have made me party to the details of all those calls he disappeared into the study to take or to make. He should have _insisted_ I listen. But he didn't. He judged me too weak, too messed up still to trust. Or perhaps he didn't want to admit he wasn't capable of finding a way forward himself.

Really trusting someone involves sometimes swallowing your pride and asking for help. Letting them see you when you're failing, when you're forced to acknowledge that you're beaten and that you have no more solutions to offer and no idea what to do. He kept all that from me, and coped with this on his own. Of course he mentioned what was going on, but he never laboured the point. He carried on spending evenings, whole weekends, with me where we talked about anything and everything, allowing me to believe he was there in the moment with me, when, all along, the worsening situation with his sister's planet must have been preoccupying his thoughts.

Now that I'm thinking back over recent events, I wonder if he has ever trusted me since my return the way I've trusted him. It hurt like hell that he listened to Tuvok's counsel not to tell me about Mollah during our last mission together, but I forgave him. I hoped he would trust me the next time around. Seems that hope was misplaced.

He told me that he and Sekaya and their friends had done everything they could think of to try to stop the Federation from handing over the Marsadan system. Well, _they_ may have, but _I_ sure as hell haven't.

So, I make a decision.

For the sake of the Marsadan population, for Sekaya and her family and for the sake of a Federation that I know can be better than this, I will do every single thing in my power to stop this madness from going any further. And I won't rest until I have.

And as for the soon to be _former_ Captain Chakotay, I try not to think about him. I try not to wonder how far they've travelled by now, what exactly they'll do when they get there. I try not to wonder who is the most restrained and sensible among them. I barely know Chakotay's cousin. Sveta I've only met twice, but my gut tells me she is probably more reckless than Chakotay. I try not to wonder what sort of organised chaos they'll find when they get there with these neighbouring rebels who offered their help. I try not to speculate as to whether Chakotay will get frustrated and attempt to take charge and coordinate their efforts. I try not to think about how many people will see his face if he does, how many might recognise him and how unlikely it would be then that Starfleet or the Federation would remain ignorant of his involvement for very long. I try not to think about the fact he could be stripped of his rank, arrested, tried and sent to a penal colony as a storm of publicity rages around us both. I try not to think about the fact that the Breen Confederacy has some of the most sophisticated weapons that we know the least about. I try not to think about Sveta's small ship exploding in a devastating white-hot flash of-

I try not to think about any of these things.

I resolve to become a thorn in the side of the President's office until someone listens to me. So, I clear up the smashed bottle, too quickly, slicing my finger on a chunk of the glass, and I shower in the lingering scent of the man I'm not thinking about.

Half an hour later, I'm in a fresh uniform, perfectly coiffed. I stand tall in the new, far more comfortable regulation women's boots – glad some things changed for the better while we were in the Delta Quadrant - and I attach my combadge, no longer afraid to look myself in the eye.

Leaving the quiet of my apartment behind, I step out into the San Francisco sunshine, fired up and ready to take on the world and any other planets foolish enough get in my way.

XxX

For the next three days my every waking hour is filled with activity. Taking care not to neglect any of my existing work commitments, I use every other available minute for appointments and 'chance' meetings I've engineered with the significant players responsible for drawing up and negotiating the agreement with the Breen Confederacy. I bend every ear I can.

One of my first calls is to an old friend of my father's, in his seventies now, who is in the highest echelons of the Federation Diplomatic Corps.

"Such a shame that Chakotay's family always seem to back the wrong horse," he commiserates.

I swallow the response his comment deserves and press on. When he asks after Chakotay himself, I tell him the cover story. He thinks a spiritual retreat is a good idea.

"I'm very glad to see your young man isn't the hothead he once was, Katie," he tells me.

Again I bite my tongue and I humour him, because I know he can open doors for me that would otherwise remain shut. And, as a result of one of the meetings he sets up for me, I make a surprising discovery.

It seems that the Marsadan system was not the only thing the Breen were interested in. My father's old friend sends me all of the internal reports I request and one of them makes an oblique reference to 'initial demands' by the Confederacy for discussion of 'another Federation asset'. There are no details to be found of what this 'asset' was. One member of the negotiating team I persuade to talk to me is evasive. The others I speak to seem genuinely not to know anything about it.

I still have the final reports and debriefings from the Full Circle mission to work on. So I burn the oil well past midnight every night, to ensure I'm still pulling my weight and avoid drawing attention to myself.

My mother calls. I feel obliged to say something, so I sketch the briefest of outlines of the events that have left me here eating a replicated soup alone on the terrace at 22.00hrs. If she's surprised by the fact Chakotay has taken himself off for two weeks she doesn't say so. But she has a soft spot for him the size of Indiana, so I'm not surprised she still thinks he can do no wrong. She expresses her sympathy for Sekaya's situation and says she hopes Chakotay and I will come over to the house as soon as he's back. When she can sense I'm not going to be drawn into conversation, she asks carefully if I'm okay. I plead exhaustion from excessive workload. She's used to my unhealthy work habits and my evasion tactics, so she accepts it all, letting me go and sending me her love. Immediately I've cut the connection I feel sick with guilt. My mother deserves better. She's always deserved so much more from the people she loves.

Once Phoebe gets wind of what's happened she's a little harder to manage.

"But how do you _feel_ about him taking off like that? I mean you could have spent these two weeks on vacation somewhere together. You both deserve one!"

"I'm fine. I have a lot of work still to do here."

As I say this, I imagine the way she's probably pursing her lips and rolling her eyes. I know what she thinks. That I'm all cool heart and dispassionate insularity, to her fervour and gregarious sociability. Some dynamics never really change, no matter how old we get.

"Well, I think you're too long-suffering. Honestly. I'd be _devastated_ if my partner just upped and left like that. Has he at least been in touch?"

I quickly remind her of the limited technology on Chakotay's home colony - the retreat has no long-range communications – and I tell her I have to leave for a meeting, cutting the call short.

The only time the Marsadan system makes the news again is when a group of environmentalists attempt to protest the loss of the only gallicite underwater sea caves in this Quadrant. Predictably, the piece generates little interest. Fears about the on-going security of the Federation still loom large, overshadowing environmental or any other concerns these days.

Then, before I've made any more progress, the arrival date of the Breen's first landing party is quietly made public – it's only a matter of days away now. No mention is made of what will happen to the Marsadan population. I make more enquiries and discover the Federation has already dispatched a small convoy of ships from a nearby base to evacuate anyone who does not wish to live under the new regime.

As soon as the date is announced, Chakotay's close friends call me, because they can't get hold of him.

A subdued Mike Ayala calls, says he hasn't heard from Chakotay since the day the decision was announced. Through gritted teeth, I tell him the cover story, fiercely resenting the fact I'm obliged to lie to him. He says little in response, but I get the sense he's surprised. That he'd been hoping Chakotay would _do_ something practical that he could volunteer to help with. I'm grateful Chakotay at least had the sense to keep him out of this; he has a wife and children.

B'Elanna calls. She tried to get in touch the day after Chakotay left when she couldn't get hold of him, but I couldn't face taking the call. I sent her a message with his cover story instead.

This time, I get the impression that she and Tom are calling to check up on me.

"I'm sorry he's taken off with his cousin, Admiral." The concern in her voice brings a lump to my throat for the first time in days. I swallow it away, as she goes on. "But I guess it's probably for the best. I was worried he might do something stupid."

In the background I hear Tom's voice, accompanied by a loud screech of toddler delight. Then B'Elanna yells, "Wind-down time, wind _down_ , Tom. Do you even know what that means? She's gonna wake Michael!"

Then she's back with me. "I'm sorry Admiral. Things are a little _lively_ here still. It's taking me a while to get bedtime routine under control – one of my kids is a slow learner."

"No need to apologise, B'Elanna. Sounds like you've got your hands full these days."

"Yeah, well… But like I was saying, Admiral – we both know that sometimes Chakotay can drive you crazy by playing it safe. But when it comes to protecting the people he loves, well, there are times when the things he's prepared to do still surprise me. So I admit, I didn't expect him to go on some 'retreat'."

Her distaste comes across loud and clear. If she only knew…

"Yes. Well, I was surprised too."

"The situation those people are in is all I can think about right now. I wish there was something we could _do_. It's driving me crazy we're so powerless to help."

My eyes rake over the landslide of data padds that is my dining table. "I've been looking at alternatives the Federation has at its disposal that might also be attractive to the Confederacy," I tell her.

"Good. Let us know if we can help." Her voice lacks conviction - she doesn't really believe I'll find anything.

"I will."

"And what about Sekaya, Kalem and the girls?" she asks. "I can't believe Chakotay didn't want to take a shuttle there to fetch them himself!" She sighs. "Sorry, Admiral, that came out wrong. I'm just… confused, I guess. It doesn't seem like him to stick his head in the sand. Makes me wonder if that's really what he's-"

"No need to apologise, B'Elanna," I immediately cut her off, as her doubts are making me nervous. If anyone was going to see through his cover it'd be her, and I'm very much aware of the possibility someone may still be monitoring my calls. "The Federation have sent ships for anyone who wants to leave, so I imagine Sekaya and her family will board one of them."

"Right. Well, I'm sorry to keep you, I'm sure you're busy," she says. "We just wanted to see how you're doing. You're welcome any evening for dinner. I'll call in at your office next time I'm in the building and we'll fix a date."

"It'd be good to see you all. Send my love to my beautiful goddaughter and to little Michael."

"I will. But he's not _little_ you know. That baby's a monster – he's already wearing clothes she had when she was two."

I find a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth for the first time in days. "Well, let's just hope they get along. Because one day you'll have a couple of strapping teenage warriors living under your roof. I imagine that could make for some lively evenings too."

"Don't. That's not even funny."

As the connection closes, I reach for the wine bottle on the table and pour myself another glass even though I'd sworn not to have more than two. My digging has gotten me nowhere fast. I'm beginning to wonder why I thought I'd be able to do more than Chakotay, Sekaya and the Marsadans already had. And, I still have work I've yet to finish, so I open the next Full Circle mission file and sag back into the chair.

As I take a large sip of the full-bodied Rioja I had looked forward to sharing with the man I'm refusing to think about, I force myself to scroll down onto the next chunk of post-mission data I'm supposed to be reviewing. An hour later, the angry growling of my neglected stomach forces me to consider taking a break. I'm just about to do so, when I find an anomalous reference – to a planet called Clavis.

Clavis. I trawl my memory. No. The name means nothing to me. Frowning, I take another small sip of wine and read it again.

Captain O'Donnell writes that they found some interesting minerals on one of the planets they surveyed at the edge of the Delta Quadrant; a considerable find, but nothing like the 'treasure trove found on Clavis'. It sounds like something I should be aware of. So, I run a search through the entirety of the 'Fleet reports and debriefing records for the Full Circle mission, but it comes up empty. Eventually, when I put the name into the Federation-wide database, I hazard on a link with that name, but it's to a classified data block entered on a stardate during our sixth year in the Delta Quadrant. It's a data block that not even my Admiral's clearance codes can open.

Adrenaline sparks right through to my fingertips as instinct tells me I'm on to something. I push my wine glass away, instantly renewed. Whatever this 'treasure trove' of minerals is, clearly someone somewhere high up has decided it's best kept secret, and I want to know why.

I call Captain O'Donnell. It's already late and he doesn't answer, but he's listed as 'home on leave'. Despite the hour, I call my assistant and then try two Starfleet friends, but no one has even heard of it.

I catch a few hours sleep and call O'Donnell again. Still no answer. The man obviously values his privacy when he's on leave. Normally, I'd respect that, but I need answers, so I'm in no mood to worry about such niceties. Less than an hour later I'm outside his house. He answers the door eventually, still in his pyjamas. After he's recovered from the shock of finding the Fleet Admiral on his doorstep just after dawn, he invites me in.

When I ask him about Clavis he explains without hesitation. A close friend of his was on the mission that explored the planet, serving on a small science vessel tasked with cataloguing the mineral composition of planets on a particular sector on the border between the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.

As I sip the truly wonderful coffee he very kindly makes for me, he explains that his friend described Clavis as vast and uninhabited. It didn't look interesting on sensors and so had probably been overlooked for years. Once they set foot on the surface, however, it became a great deal more than 'interesting'. They found that sensors had been unable to penetrate further than the first few metres of the planet's crust because of an ancient yet highly sophisticated force field protecting it. As soon as their engineers deactivated this field, they made an astonishing discovery. It seems the entire planet is made up of highly concentrated strains of several of the rarest minerals in the Federation, as well as several we've never encountered before. He tells me his friend said that the readings they took for gallicite alone were off the scale.

When I tell him that there's no mention of it anywhere in any Federation database, initially he's mystified. Then he swallows and scrubs a hand across his morning stubble, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

"I guess it's possible Craig was telling me things that he shouldn't have," he says. "If my memory serves me correctly, that conversation did come late on in the evening, after we'd been extensively sampling a rather fine bottle of whisky."

He apologises for including the passing reference in his report if it's supposed to be classified and promises to remove it and resubmit. I reassure him I will remove it myself, only to protect his friend, but that I'm actually extremely grateful that he's inadvertently brought it to my attention. I thank him for the excellent coffee and make a swift exit, leaving him in peace.

Why then would the Federation suddenly suppress all knowledge of the find? Why not offer it to the Breen instead of the Marsadan system? Especially since it seems possible the Confederacy's intelligence operatives had already gotten wind of it, if they were initially demanding to discuss 'another Federation asset'. Surely that might well have been Clavis?

Why the hell wouldn't we offer up an uninhabited chunk of minerals if it meant saving two established communities and at least one stunningly beautiful world?

An hour later and I'm back to outstaying my welcome in the office of the President. Eventually, I get my answer. The President's principal aide informs me that Clavis is considered to be of far greater _strategic_ significance than the Marsadan system, because of its location. In addition, I learn that there is an unwillingness to allow the Breen access to these new uncatalogued minerals before our scientists have thoroughly studied their potential.

These 'negotiations' facilitated by my contact in the President's office become decidedly heated. The President's principal aide assures me that the members of the Federation council had all the salient facts about alternative assets at their disposal when they agreed to cede the Marsadan system. My gut tells me he's bluffing. When I ask what he thinks the press would make of everything I've uncovered, I'm asked to leave.

Finally armed with knowledge I can use, I retreat to my office to regroup. What I need now is for someone to call an emergency meeting of the Federation council. While I figure out the best way to make that happen, my next move might be to go to the press, or maybe to threaten to inform the Breen representatives myself that they were right to suspect the Federation had another 'asset' they might be more interested in. Those last two strategies would probably mean the end of my career in Starfleet, but I'm so damn angry about this whole mess right now, that I'm actually past caring.

While I'm still deciding what to do, B'Elanna strides in, with considerably less regard for protocol than I've come to expect of her in recent years.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Somehow I don't think you're here to invite me to dinner, B'Elanna. Have a seat."

Ignoring my invitation, she stalks past me and reaches for the controls on my workstation. She switches to the main newsfeed and selects an item, moving it to a particular time index. Then she stands back, and crosses her arms.

I feel her eyes on me as I watch the viewer. The piece we're seeing reports that the small convoy of ships that were supposed to collect the Marsadan population has been unable to enter orbit. Apparently the recently installed network of atmospheric control satellites for the Marsadan system has malfunctioned, causing a spate of random plasma storms, preventing the convoy from entering orbit and disrupting all long-range communication with the system.

" _Finally_!" I exclaim, turning to her. "A piece of luck." This delay might actually buy me the time I need to make enough waves for something to change.

But B'Elanna looks decidedly unimpressed.

"It's him, isn't it?" Her eyes flash at me.

I don't know why she's saying this, but my gut tightens all the same. I consider again what Chakotay said about our calls being monitored and I wonder whether my office could even be bugged. Far fetched probably – but just in case…

"Let's take a walk," I suggest. "I'm sure we could both do with some fresh air."

Ignoring her surprised glare, I clip off both our communicators and slip them into the drawer of my desk. I switch off the viewer and head for the door, tugging B'Elanna with me.

We leave Headquarters and make for a nearby café. As soon as we're seated at a secluded table in the café garden I challenge her. "What did you mean, 'it's him'?"

"He's there, isn't he?"

My pulse quickens and I feel my brow knit slightly as I clasp my hands on the table in front of me. I school my features.

"There! See!" she jumps in. "You're not even going to deny it."

"What makes you so sure he's involved?"

"Freak _plasma_ storms? Really? Don't you think that's just a little _convenient_?"

"I don't know, I-"

"They 'appear' immediately before the convoy is due to enter orbit?" She cuts me off. "In a system that's known for its incredibly stable conditions and predictable weather patterns? They haven't had a plasma storm there in millennia."

The waiter approaches us cautiously. B'Elanna pauses as he nears and he carefully sets our drinks down. I smile and thank him. The instant he's out of earshot my companion begins again.

"System wide atmospheric controls don't just _randomly malfunction_! They're fitted with so many secondary fail-safes."

I meet her gaze as the steam from her raktajino rises in swirls between us. "So you're saying they've been sabotaged," I test, keeping my expression neutral. "But that doesn't mean Chakotay is involved."

"I know it's him," she hisses. "I _taught_ him how to do that. When you spend as long as we did in the Badlands you learn a thing or two about plasma storms. More than once we managed to sabotage the atmospheric control net of one or other of the colonies to make it look like plasma storms. The Cardassians always fell for it. One time it delayed them entering orbit for nearly three days."

I wonder how to proceed here, and drop my gaze to the table for a moment.

"Chakotay's out there, isn't he?" she challenges again. "He's not on some stupid 'retreat', is he?" she rounds on me. "I can't believe it's taken me this long to figure it out! I'm almost as big an idiot as he is."

My mouth suddenly runs dry. When I finally look up, I know there's no way I can maintain this charade in front of her anymore. I make her swear not to tell anyone other than Tom, and then I crack. I'm betraying Chakotay's trust in telling her, but I'll be damned if I'm going to beat myself up over that. In any case, she knew. I'm only confirming what she'd already worked out.

Once I've told her everything I know about his plans, she's even more furious.

"What the hell does he think he's going to achieve? Hold off the whole of the Breen Confederacy with a few small ships? I mean it's just ludicrous!"

Then she asks many of the same questions I asked of him as she struggles to work out why he'd do this.

I decide that I might as well tell her about everything I've managed to uncover too, and it's a wonderful release to be able to talk freely about where he really is and about what I've been doing these past few days.

"Well, we need to go there, now," she declares immediately. "We need to stop the damn fool from getting any further into this than he already is. Especially now you could be close to finding another solution. There's no point him throwing away his career for nothing!"

The measured response would probably be to tell her that seems like a knee jerk reaction, and far too hasty. That it would be better to continue pressing the advantage I've just acquired from here in the centre of the Federation. But actually, I don't feel that way at all. It sounds like a damn good idea to me right now.

If I stay here, there's no knowing what could happen there in the time it takes for the wheels of diplomacy to start turning. Chakotay was right about one thing. Once the Breen land their ships and take over, it's very unlikely they'll ever pull out again. In situations like this, possession is often still nine tenths of the law.

So we make a plan, there and then.

Half an hour later I'm back at my desk putting in a request for a ship. I say I intend to go to Marsada as a goodwill gesture, to escort the interplanetary advisor and her family back to stay with me on Earth while they decide their future. I don't refer to my personal connection to Sekaya – it's not necessary. Ever since we arrived back from the Full Circle mission, Chakotay and I have made no attempt to conceal our involvement. It's common knowledge these days.

This way, I can be there to intervene directly and bypass the long-range communication blackout. I can make contact with the groups holding out against the Breen – including any foolish outsiders who've seen fit to involve themselves. I can be there in person to contact the Breen before they enter orbit, to tell them that there is a solution in the pipeline. They should take a decorated Starfleet Admiral seriously.

Once I'm en route, I'll pursue the avenues I was considering. I'll threaten to tell the Breen myself about Clavis, and I'll threaten to go to the press, and hope that'll be enough to effect a change in Federation policy.

It may not be foolproof, but it's a plan.

Then, I'm surprised by an anonymous call – seems I had more of an impact among the President's staff this morning than I'd realised. I'm given details of an informal meeting about to take place between several key members of the Federation council. So I touch up my makeup and I appear in their hotel lobby. I join them over aperitifs. I turn up the charm, a little too far perhaps since the Councillor from Betazed seems to take rather a shine to me and presses me for a dinner date. I evade his advances and manage to make my points well enough I think. From their reactions, it's clear that they most certainly were not 'fully aware of all the salient facts' about alternative assets at their disposal. Not one of them has ever heard of Clavis.

B'Elanna had invited me to their house, so as soon as I'm done with this impromptu engagement, I head over. Like most of the senior staff from the Full Circle fleet, Tom and B'Elanna are still officially on leave for a couple more weeks, despite the fact that B'Elanna seems to be working every day. I've accepted that she and Tom will now be party to whatever I decide to do next. I wouldn't say I'm happy about what I'm bringing them into, but it is a relief not to be alone in this any more.

When I get there the pint size storm that is my goddaughter is quick to greet me. Within minutes she manages to get some sort of sticky red stuff – finger-paint perhaps – on my new linen pants.

"Oh, Admiral! I'm sorry," B'Elanna exclaims, grabbing a towel and trying to undo the damage.

Tom raises an eyebrow and hands me Michael to hold.

"I wouldn't bother trying to clean it off," he advises. "Michael is likely to burp all over you anyway."

He's not wrong.

Michael is simply adorable. There's something wonderful about the solid weight of him as he settles easily in my arms and looks up at me with his huge brown eyes. I know I once said that enjoying motherhood vicariously was enough for me, but if ever a baby could make me think about having one of my own, it'd be him. I have to admit I'm stunned by how much he's grown since I was last here for dinner with Cha-

I shove that thought far away and focus on what B'Elanna is saying. Once I've tuned in again, I discover that B'Elanna intends for her and Tom and the children to come with me to the Marsadan system tomorrow. This does give me pause for thought.

"They'll give you a ship with family quarters so that you can escort Sekaya's family back," Tom points out as he picks the gurgling Michael out of my arms to hold him against his shoulder. "We'll just be making sure such spacious quarters don't go to waste, given her family aren't really going to be going anywhere."

"As long as I'm successful, you mean."

"You'll be successful."

I'm truly grateful for his faith in me. "Thank you, Tom. It's good to hear someone say that. But are you really sure you want to come with me? _All_ of you?"

"You don't know what you're gonna find when you get there," he reminds me. "B'Elanna already told me she's going with you. There's no way I'm staying home while she gets all the action. You could use a first class engineer and a good pilot, I'm sure."

"I won't deny that it'd increase my chances of success if you two were with me. But it's likely to be an… eventful trip and-"

"Well, we wouldn't miss it," he cuts in. "Anyway, it's time the kids went on another space run." He grins at his son. "Don't want them getting too used to having a stable planetside life, now do we?" He pokes Michael's tummy and the baby bubbles out an infectious giggle in response.

"When I get my hands on Chakotay, it'll certainly be 'eventful'," B'Elanna threatens. "If the damn fool hasn't already gotten himself blown up, I may just have to kill him myself."

Tom's eyes flick back to mine and he holds my gaze for a beat. "Something tells me you may have to wait in line."

[TBC]


	3. Chapter 3

"Damage report!" I yell, as I pull myself up off the deck and back into the seat next to Sveta, who's already back at tactical.

"We still have shields. Forward phasers are gone," she replies.

"All of them?"

"All of them, Chakotay. This is a small ship and those disruptor arrays of theirs are powerful."

"I'm pulling back. We can't afford to take another hit." I state the obvious, but, after three days with this crew, I've discovered it isn't always as obvious as you'd think.

"There are two more mines to deploy," she declares.

We've been out here now for hours and we're all dog-tired. Because we weren't ready. I feel my jaw clench reflexively as that circular thought comes around again to taunt me. We weren't ready. I warned the others that I didn't think the Breen would wait until the time they'd been given to take over – I said they'd arrive a day in advance. But I underestimated them.

When they arrived in this system a full thirty-six hours in advance of the time they'd been given, the lead vessel sent out a single ten-second transmission to the Marsadan government. They announced they'd be taking control of the system as soon as they landed. Then they headed into orbit. Needless to say, our 'plasma' storms didn't fool them for more than a couple of hours.

At least it gave us long enough to finish loading up our stupidly large, antiquated spatial charges. But the fact remains that we weren't ready – and we should have been.

An alarm goes off next to me as the engines complain that a fuel line has ruptured. Smoke jets out of an overhead panel obscuring my vision. I turn to Kohana behind me at ops. "Can you bypass that?"

"Already done," my cousin replies as the jet of fumes stops abruptly. "But that's the least of our worries. Warp engines are gone."

"Our concern is the mines," Sveta states dismissively.

"But we also need an exit plan," I remind her.

"Nothing has changed. We occupy the third ship while Jano deploys the last of the mines. _Then_ we leave. Bring us around again, Chakotay. Aft phasers are still online."

"Fine. We cover him for one more attempt. Then we get out of harm's way before it's too late."

"We fight until it is done," she repeats, unmoved. I'd forgotten how damn stubborn she can be. Maybe even more so than Kathryn.

"Six mines are already out there," I say. "That's enough to disable them. They won't be landing anywhere with the level of damage they'll sustain. It'll be enough."

"I remind you again. You are not in command here, Chakotay. We stay until all eight are out there."

"Damn it, Sveta. This isn't a suicide mission. We've been lucky so far."

"It is what it is. We stay until it is done."

The ship reels again as another disruptor blast glances across the bow.

My cousin blurts out the curse that my 'fleet training kept in my head. Sveta fails to hold herself in place and crashes against me momentarily. I shove her back into her seat.

The jamming signal we managed to rig may have rendered the Breen's sensors useless, but our adversaries are having a fair amount of luck firing at us blind.

"I'm taking us back in for one last run," I tell her as I swing the ship around again. "Do as much damage as you can. Kohana, divert all available power to the aft phasers. This might be our last shot."

Kohana grunts in response, and Sveta throws me an icy glare. I offer a silent prayer to any spirits who may be listening that it'll be enough, because this isn't going well and I have no intention of-

Then that thought is bashed out of my skull as my head slams into the console in front of me.

When I come around the blackness is almost total. I blink repeatedly then I push the balls of my hands into my eye sockets. I wonder for a split second if it's just me and I've lost my sight.

But that's not it. I know this feeling. We must have lost all power. This isn't the first time I've found myself hanging dead in space in Sveta's tin can ship. I've never been fool enough to indulge in nostalgia about my life in the Maquis. Quite the contrary actually. I'd be happy if I never revisited most of the experiences I had during those few eventful years. I certainly count hanging dead in space in a small defenceless ship among them.

My stomach lurches as I shift onto my front and press my palms into the deck, trying to decide which way is up. Once I'm sitting, I punch the flashlight strapped to my wrist and angle the beam to search for the woman who should be next to me. She's sprawled across the deck, out cold. Her head is wedged up against the trunk of Kohana's seat. Another light flashes from my left where he's orienting himself. Together we lift Sveta back into her seat. As she comes around she groans and then mutters something incoherent. I quickly examine her. She hit her head pretty bad, but there are no obvious broken bones. Looks like we were lucky – we've probably faired better than this ship.

Only minutes later and Sveta is actively with us again. Together we to try get emergency power online. As soon as we get anything at all, we go through primary systems to see what's still functioning.

I note with surprise that we still have sensors. Sveta is already scanning the battle scene.

"Seven mines are in place," she states. "Jano and the others have pulled back."

"Detonate now, while we still can," I tell her. "Seven's enough. If we lose power again, there's no guarantee we'll ever be able to get it back long enough to transmit the detonation sequence. Then we're totally screwed."

"Very well," she grits, signalling the others. "Detonating mines."

Nothing happens.

"I don't understand."

She's not the only one. I refuse to believe the mines we planned this whole damn operation around have failed! They might not be exactly the latest specs, but they were fully functional. I know because I tested them myself.

"Shit," says Kohana.

"Shit indeed," Sveta concurs.

"Signal Jano to send the detonation sequence again," I tell Kohana. "Maybe our transmitter's taken damage."

"Our transmitter's good," he replies. "It's the mines themselves. Something's wrong with the detonators. It's like they're just... gone! Like there's nothing to interface with."

"They cannot be 'gone'!" Sveta hisses at him. "Where would you have them go, man?"

Then the ship shudders again and I twist in my seat to look at Kohana.

"There's another ship," he shouts, ignoring Sveta's outburst. "It's Starfleet. And whoever's flying that thing isn't scared of cutting it fine. They dropped out of warp almost on top of us and missed that Breen ship by a matter of-"

Suddenly a transmission cuts in.

" _Attention all vessels, this is the Federation starship Pantera. Cease fire. I repeat, cease fire."_

For a moment I wonder if I hit my head harder than I thought, because I must be hearing things.

But then it repeats.

" _Attention all vessels, this is the Federation starship Pantera. Cease fire. I repeat, cease fire."_

Kathryn? _Kathryn_?

No! _Fuck_. No. No. _No_.

I don't... _How_? Here, _now_? Starfleet wouldn't send _Kathryn_...

She can't _be here_ in the middle of this! Didn't she understand _anything_? Shit. Shit.

"What are your intentions here?" Sveta challenges immediately.

And I'm grateful that she does, because I sure as hell have nothing useful to say.

I desperately struggle to divorce the fact that a Starfleet ship has just dropped out of warp on top of us from the fact that it's commanded by the woman I love who _should not be here!_

" _Stand down. Then we talk_ ," Kathryn's voice replies. _"Trust me, you're going to want to hear what I've got to say."_

Sveta looks at me, accusation and hostility in her grey eyes. She's looking at me as if she doesn't know who she's seeing anymore.

Kohana shouts something at me. I ignore him.

I slam my fist hard into the nearest panel.

The pain finally focuses my mind.

Why are Starfleet here? Our plasma storms turned the relocation convoy around two days ago and we hadn't counted on having to deal with any more 'fleet ships so soon. Despite the communications blackout, maybe Starfleet somehow got wind of the fact the Breen arrived a full thirty-six hours before the agreed time? Maybe they sent this ship – sent _Kathryn_ – to investigate?

This complicates everything. Will Starfleet's agenda be to help the Breen land, despite the fact they're early? Or do they plan to try to hold them off until it's time? The second of those options seems unlikely though, as it'd take a lot more than one ship…

And why the hell does it have to be _her_?

All I know is that the spirits are playing one hell of a twisted game with me right now.

My focus is on the new arrival, for obvious reasons, so I'm slow to react to Kohana. "Evasive manoeuvres, Chakotay! Now! We've got more incoming!" he yells. "Guess the Breen aren't interested in talking."

"Brace for impact!" I shout, throwing the ship to port and knowing for sure that it won't be enough.

And that's the last thing I do know for sure for a while, because my stomach is left behind in the pilot's seat as the impact from whatever hits us pulls me up and my head connects with the roof this time.

At least the searing pain and the nausea are cancelled out almost immediately when I lose consciousness again and everything fades to night.

XxX

I've been dreaming about her every night since I left Earth – usually in some crazy draining drawn-out scenario where no matter what I do or however many obstacles I make it past, I just can't get to her. I always wake myself as soon as I realise I'm dreaming, and I'm always drenched in sweat. Now here she is again. But this time she's close. She's standing over me, in uniform, her hair pinned up neatly, altogether a vision of the very best Starfleet's admiralty has to offer. I'm lying at her feet in this dream, and I admire the curves of her shapely form from this unusually low angle. Not many women manage to look good in those long tunics, but Kathryn most certainly does. I think about how much I love sliding my hands up under that tunic, cupping her perfectly formed ass and pulling her body flush against me as my lips find the cool smooth skin of her slender neck…

But this dream is marred by a pulsating throb in my head as well as my groin. So I decide it's time to wake up.

I take another deep breath, not only because the throbbing in my head isn't going anywhere, but also because of the expression on the face of the woman looming over me – guess I'd been focussed on other parts of her just now. I blink two, three times.

This is one seriously _pissed_ Kathryn Janeway, and angry sex isn't one of my particular fantasies.

As I watch this decidedly real Kathryn tilt her chin a little further into the air, it hits me.

I remember where I am, and what just happened.

I close my eyes again.

Shit. _Shit_.

[TBC]


	4. Chapter 4

After everything I've dealt with in the course of my career in Starfleet – particularly during my years in the Delta Quadrant – I really shouldn't have been surprised by what happened here. But I was.

Despite everything I knew about them, I wasn't expecting the Breen to enter orbit almost two days early.

I had not expected to drop out of warp into what looked like a war zone – my plan had hinged on intercepting the Breen ships _before_ they arrived in the Marsadan system.

If I had known how things would turn out, I would never have agreed to the Paris-Torres family's request to accompany me. Although, perhaps it was a good thing I was so unsuspecting. For if B'Elanna and Tom hadn't both been here to play their parts in preventing those mines from going off, it would have been a very different story. Without their skills and their quick thinking, I might have found myself forced to beam down to Sekaya's house on Marsada to deliver her brother's dead body – presuming there would have been enough left after the explosions to place in a container.

XxX

When Tom and I beam over to the cramped bridge of Sveta's battered little ship, the contrast to the sleek curves and latest spec technology we've just left behind on the _Pantera_ is staggering. Sveta's ship is considerably bigger than Chakotay's _Alpha Flyer_ , but it has the feel of something from another era of space travel entirely. It looks like more than half of the body of this vessel has been replaced – cobbled together from parts of other ships. I can't shake the feeling that I've just beamed aboard the Frankenstein's monster of small ships.

Tom scans the motionless forms of Sveta, Chakotay and Kohana with the medical tricorder. Once I collect myself, I secure primary systems. We spend a few minutes working in silence until I cross to stand next to him and he gives me his triage report. All three have concussion, cracked ribs, and some sizeable contusions, but none of them have life-threatening injuries – nothing he can't patch up with a field medic's kit. His first patient is the long-limbed Sveta. He treats her impossibly thin wrist while she's still unconscious. Then I help him prop her up in her seat and he begins to treat her concussion. I turn back to Chakotay.

Whatever else I may be feeling as I stand over the unconscious form of the man who is the real reason I'm here, I know that my heart is still caught in the retreating swell of the tsunami of relief that hit me when we beamed in. The impact was such that I found myself clutching Tom's arm. It was the first time I knew for sure that one of the life-signs we picked up on this ship belonged to Chakotay. It wasn't until that moment that I realised just how terrified I'd been of beaming aboard and finding him already dead.

Chakotay and I have both cheated death before. As most people know these days, death and I have an unconventional relationship. Today, I felt as if it was nearby again. I haven't felt that way in months.

As I stand over him now, I realise that even though I may not trust him any more, there's no denying what the sight of this foolhardy, fallible, stubborn man lying here at my feet does to some primitive part of me. For a moment, I almost drop down beside him on the deck – if only to reassure myself he's really still alive and warm and whole. I almost reach for him, to touch his face, to dab away the blood that's congealing around a cut across his forehead and colouring the blue-grey lines of his ancestors an angry dark red-

But I resolve to do no such thing. My chin angles up as I remind myself of every reason I have to ignore that primitive part.

Then movement catches my attention as Chakotay's cousin stirs.

As I watch, Kohana manoeuvres himself up to sitting. His groans attract Tom's attention. He's done with Sveta now, so he manoeuvres himself further back in the cabin and helps Kohana sit more comfortably. I can feel Kohana's dark eyes looking across at me. He nods a cautious greeting. I acknowledge him with a tight smile. It's the best I can do right now. As Tom treats him, he fills him in on everything that's happened. Kohana listens in silence.

There's a strong family resemblance between this tall, broad man and the one still lying unconscious at my feet. I watch Kohana's almost familiar face watching me as he listens to Tom. It heightens the sense of anticipation building in my gut about how Chakotay will react to my presence. Chakotay told me he and Kohana were close as boys, his cousin being only two years his junior. I imagine they might well have been mistaken for brothers. I don't know much about him other than that he's an engineer, he lives in Ohio and he's married to a Terran woman with whom he has four young children. I'm sure he's a charming person, but I'm in no mood to deal with him right now, so I keep my distance.

I look down again to see Chakotay's eyelids flutter, as if he's dreaming. He blinks two, three times, his face still slack in repose and then he looks up at me, eyes still seeming unfocused. His brow furrows for a moment before his eyes close again.

A moment later, he seems to come around properly. He slowly props himself up on his elbows and our eyes meet in earnest for the first time since he shimmered into nothingness in front of me in my apartment.

"Kathryn." He's hoarse, and his tone suggests he's still in the process of convincing himself I'm really here.

What happens next alarms me. As his dark eyes rake over my face, despite everything he's done and hasn't done, I suddenly feel myself being pulled down again towards him, like a paperclip to a magnet.

I take a step back immediately. This is _exactly_ why I kept my distance all those years on _Voyager_. Something akin to confusion flashes through Chakotay's expression.

Tom turns our way. He's finished treating Kohana, the latter is seated on the deck, leaning against the bulkhead, clearly exhausted. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tom hesitate.

A few long seconds pass as I remain where I am, staring straight ahead, battling my frayed nerves into submission.

Then Tom steps forward, filling the space in front of me. He leans down and offers Chakotay his hand. Chakotay grasps it firmly and Tom helps him get up.

"Easy," Tom cautions, steering him to the pilot's seat. "You hit your head pretty hard. You may feel still a little dizzy." He presses a hypo-spray to Chakotay's neck. "This should help."

"Thanks." Then Chakotay looks at me. "I take it this means the situation's changed."

I hold his gaze. "It has."

"You mind telling me why you're here, Kathryn?" he asks, clearly none too pleased.

Our voices must have roused Sveta. "How long have we been unconscious?" she questions me.

"Not long." I reply. I moisten my lips, then address them both. "We've transported some things you may have lost into your cargo hold."

"Oh?" Sveta narrows her eyes.

"The detonators to your mines," Tom supplies.

"And the Breen ships?" Chakotay asks me.

"Left orbit," I reply.

Kohana watches from the back of the bridge, listening silently to our exchanges. Sveta huffs out a disbelieving breath.

"Why would they do that?" Chakotay is equally sceptical no doubt, but more graceful an orator than his friend.

"Perhaps she asked them nicely," Sveta remarks coolly, her unusual grey eyes on me.

"I sent the master of the lead ship some sample data," I reply, my tone equally chilly.

"Data?" Chakotay raises an eyebrow.

"Data about an uninhabited Federation planet I knew he'd find a lot more interesting than this entire system."

"The Federation council authorised _you_ to renegotiate?" Chakotay is clearly finding my success here hard to fathom. Even though he was the one who suggested I work from within. Guess he underestimated me.

"Not exactly." I hold his level gaze, sure of myself once again now that we're in professional territory. "I persuaded the master of the lead ship to call off their advance so he could examine the data. Then B'Elanna cleared up your 'plasma storms' and got long-range communications working again. Just before we beamed over we heard from Command that the Breen negotiators have agreed to new terms that don't involve this system. I simply took it upon myself to share what I knew with the master of the lead ship here a little in advance of that decision."

"Well, that's certainly very good news." Chakotay rubs the back of his neck and holds my gaze. "Although you'll have to tell me more about this 'new data' for it to make any sense." Then he looks to Tom. "B'Elanna's here?" he asks cautiously.

Tom nods. "It was her idea to beam the detonators out of your mines. She borrowed a trick out of Seven's book from way back."

"I see," Chakotay replies a little tersely. "Makes sense." He watches me again.

"And the kids are here too actually," Tom adds.

Chakotay's eyes snap back to Tom.

"We weren't exactly expecting this to be a battle zone," Tom clarifies.

"If you hadn't disrupted long-range communication we wouldn't have had to have come out here at all," I interject, irritated by the way Chakotay's glance levelled an accusation of irresponsibility. "We'd have been able to get word through to both sides that another solution was in the pipeline."

Tom clears his throat. "Given the comm blackout, the plan was to intercept the Breen on their way here and give them the data _before_ they entered the system."

"The Breen rarely accommodate the plans of others," Sveta dismisses wryly. Then she turns to me. "I too would like to know the nature of this _data_ that you were able to send the master of the lead ship."

I explain how I found out about the Breen's initial interest in another Federation asset. Then I tell them how I managed to find out about Clavis.

When I've finished my explanation, Sveta inclines her head for a moment, then looks up. "So it was a stroke of luck – pure chance – that enabled you to intervene here."

"I'm sorry?" I'm taken aback and I'm sure it shows on my face.

"It was pure chance this captain should include a reference to the planet in his report, was it not? And it was a stroke of luck that you came upon it when you did. Without this coincidence, you would have had no strategy here, nothing to work with."

"Well I guess that's one way of looking at it," I reply tersely. There is simply no pleasing some people.

"And then you left, to come here," Chakotay redirects. "How did you persuade Starfleet to give you a ship?"

"I told them I intended to collect the advisor on interplanetary relations and her family and transport them to wherever they'd chosen as their new home."

He swallows. I imagine it occurs to him that eyebrows were raised when people believed he'd left it to me to come to the aid of his sister's family while he took himself off on some retreat. Can't say that I'm surprised he's uncomfortable with that dynamic. Or sorry.

He collects himself. "So, did you take what you'd found out to the press?"

"Actually, I didn't have to. Once we were en route here, I called my journalist friend. But before I could tell him anything, he asked me if I'd like to go on the record and give a statement about the information from the whistle blower from inside the Office of the President. Apparently, someone had already leaked the whole affair to the press. Needless to say, there are plenty of people who are _very_ unhappy about the initial decision now all the facts are known."

Chakotay looks away, his expression unreadable, and Sveta doesn't react outwardly at all. She's already running her long fingers over the controls of her station, presumably seeing what state her ship is in.

"I told the reporter there was nothing I'd like more," I go on. "I gave him some useable sound bites. He said the councillor from Betazed had demanded an emergency meeting of the Federation council. As Tom said, we planned to intercept the Breen ships _before_ they got here. It wasn't until we were a few light years away that we realised they were already in orbit."

Then Sveta looks up from the controls. "Had we not disrupted the atmospheric control systems and sent the Federation transports away, the Breen might well have arrived even earlier. Before you'd had time to make your very lucky discovery."

My hand balls into a fist at my side. "Yes, well, while you were all flying around preparing to blast yourselves and the Breen to kingdom come, I was using my 'lucky discovery' to secure this system's freedom."

"Without our atmospheric disruption and our mines," she counters, "they would have already landed and staked their claim to Marsada at least six hours before you dropped out of warp to save the day."

The sting of her flippant sarcasm causes my fingernails to dig deep into my skin.

"I doubt they would have ever agreed to pull out then. More likely they would have decided to enjoy _both_ prizes," she concludes.

"Well, I guess we'll never know now, will we?" Tom puts in, unsmiling.

"I am not ungrateful for your intervention." Sveta's reply is curt.

"You could have fooled me," Tom shoots back at her immediately, although her comment was addressed to me.

"I simply wish to make a point," she continues, _still_ addressing me. "Your disapproval is evident in all you say. Before you berate us for our actions, you might wish to consider the things I have said."

From the look on Chakotay's face I wouldn't mind betting that he agrees with her, at least in part, but he's not fool enough to say so right now. He's learnt how to handle me. Or so he thinks.

Circular thoughts I'm so tired of thinking make their way out of my mouth. This time I'm less inclined to keep the abrasiveness of my tone in check. " _You_ might wish to consider that if Chakotay had asked for my help weeks ago, then it's quite possible I could have made these discoveries earlier."

"I do not follow how that can be true," Sveta throws back instantly. "You did not discover the existence of this planet as a result of your efforts to help the Marsadans. There is no logical reason to presume you would have read that particular report any earlier if Chakotay had asked you for help."

Chakotay and I lock eyes and I feel a quiver of tension. My pulse accelerates uncomfortably, but I'll be damned if I let it show.

"Enough, Sveta," he intervenes. "There's nothing to be gained by debating the 'what ifs'."

While I'm thinking just how convenient it would be never to examine what we could have done differently here, I realise Tom is trying to catch my eye.

"I should check each of them over thoroughly before we beam back, Admiral,"

He gestures to Kohana and Sveta, asking them to show him to a cabin for some privacy.

Kohana has the good sense to take Tom's hint and immediately gets up off the deck to lead the way through towards the cabins. Sveta doesn't seem to catch on – I find I'm not surprised. I wonder whether the words 'good sense' and Sveta often find themselves in the same sentence.

"Would you give us a moment?" Chakotay asks her when it's clear she isn't going anywhere. She nods and checks the readings on her console one last time before finally disappearing.

Chakotay's fingers were moving over the controls of the screen to his right while we waited for Sveta to leave. He was looking at the sensor readings to see exactly what I arrived in.

He quirks an eyebrow. "I see you made the trip in style."

The _Pantera_ is small and light, with limited cargo space and crew quarters. It's wonderfully sleek and surprisingly powerful. This is only its second outing. We'd spoken about this new ship design over dinner just a couple of weeks ago before all this happened – in what seems like another lifetime right now.

"Guess Starfleet still trust me." I reply pointedly.

"You did get _Voyager_ back in one piece." He smiles, and leans forward in his seat to reach for my hand. I'm too fast for him though. My hand is up and pinching at a muscle in my neck before he can intercept it. He clasps his hands in his lap instead and he carries on talking immediately, smoothing over the meaning of my evasion. "I bet Tom's eye's lit up when he saw it."

I'm in no mood for this, so I don't reply.

"Will you beam down and see Sekaya before you head back?" he asks, trying another tack. "Have to admit I'm envious. I've seen a little too much of the inside of this ship."

"I'm sure the children would welcome the chance to get off the _Pantera_ for a few hours," I finally sigh out a reply as I step away from him, moving to lean against the tactical station where Sveta usually sits. It seems Chakotay thoughts follow me there.

"I'm sorry if Sveta angered you. She doesn't always know when to hold back."

The irony of his misreading of the situation causes me to huff out a mirthless breath. If only that abrasive woman really was the one I was angry at. That'd make things a lot simpler for him, wouldn't it?

"She hardly instils confidence," I remark. "I wouldn't trust her to command anything."

I watch as he tenses up visibly. "I didn't really have a great deal of choice if I wanted to keep my face out of all this." His jaw sets. "I thought you'd have appreciated that."

Frustration fizzes through my veins. "You expect me to be grateful that you didn't flaunt your involvement and ruin your career a little faster?"

"I'm saying I thought you would understand why I couldn't take command here."

He slides awkwardly off the pilot's seat, clearly stiff from his injuries, and moves into my personal space. I'm up against Sveta's station so I can't back away from him and he knows it. His face is suddenly very close now as he looks down at me. Some of the tension seems to leave his expression, as if he's shifting gear internally. He gently clasps my upper arms.

"I told you I intended to find a way back from this," he reminds me, his voice low. "A way back to you and to Starfleet too if possible - and I meant it."

I hold myself rigid, making the few centimetres that separate me from him count. I glare up at him. "Can't say it looked like there'd be much of a 'way back' when we arrived. If you'd detonated those mines it could have meant the end of the peace agreement with the Breen. It could have cost so many lives!"

"We can't know that. And it was a calculated risk." The urge to justify puts the edge back in his tone. "The aim was to stop them landing here, nothing more."

"Nothing more?" I shake my head in disbelief. "I honestly don't understand how can you say that!"

"What is it that you want me to say, Kathryn?" A frown forms on his face as he begins to lose his cool. "That I'm sorry I came?"

"That'd be a start." My biceps tense further beneath his fingers.

"You know I can't."

I finally push past him, desperate for some space that isn't dominated by his large frame. I stand on the other side of the small bridge. "Actually, I don't want you to say anything. Just get yourself back to your home colony so you can maintain your damn cover story."

His bows his head, perching his hands on his hips, and I suspect he's no longer really listening to me.

"Although, perhaps you should actually _go_ on a spiritual retreat," I toss across the distance I'm guarding between us. "I'm sure this little operation has given you plenty to meditate about."

His eyes flash up to mine and I feel a satisfaction as bitter as my tart retort. Guess that got his attention.

"Just get yourself back to Earth in time to captain _Voyager_ on her next mission."

He pulls himself up to his full height. "Understood, _Admiral_." He holds my gaze, dark eyes unflinching. "Now, I'd be grateful if _Kathryn_ could explain exactly why she's so angry with me. Because, frankly, I don't understand."

"No. You don't."

"Tell me then. Tell me why you're still so mad."

He's struggling to keep his frustration in check, and for some reason it just incenses me more.

I know what he's thinking. The situation now is far from the disaster it could have been. No one has had to leave their planet, no one was killed, no one from Starfleet will know Chakotay was here, and, even if they did find out, the operation he helped plan was aborted in the nick of time. The crisis has been resolved in just over a week. Things may have been hard, but as long as I can take the long view, find the good in it, he thinks that he and I will be okay.

I'm not sure I even want to talk to him now, but words come tumbling out, detached from any further reflection.

"What on earth did you think so few of you could achieve with such limited, _antiquated_ technology against a force like the Breen? From where I was standing it looked like a suicide mission."

This seems to get to him, because he falters and steps back to lean against the pilot's chair again, rubbing a hand across his face.

I remember that he has a concussion and several cracked ribs, although right now I'm finding that I'm not particularly interested in his comfort. I take a deep breath to try to centre myself. "I'm angry because you still don't trust me. Still, after everything."

"Kathryn, this-"

"You need to let Tom finish treating you," I cut him off. "I'll send B'Elanna over to help with repairs to your key systems. As soon as you've said your goodbyes to Sekaya and her family I suggest you get out of here."

My curt response leaves him looking stricken and furious at the same time and it throws me off balance again. I straighten my spine, ball my fist and push back against the invisible force that pulls between us.

I wouldn't even try to deny that I still love him. But love alone isn't going to keep us together. I have to face reality. If you want to share your life with someone, then you need to be able to do just that – _share_. And it seems at least one of us doesn't know how. Maybe I'd been kidding myself before. Maybe he's too set in his ways to ever really let someone else in.

At that moment Tom's head appears in the doorway. I refuse to look at Chakotay. "Chakotay is ready for you," I announce.

Then, with what feels like a physical wrench, I call for a beam out and I leave him behind.

[TBC]


	5. Chapter 5

As the angry tilt of Kathryn's chin shimmers into nothingness in front of me, I take a deep breath, instantly regretting it when the expansion of my chest reminds me it's likely I've cracked a rib – maybe two.

She wasn't here for long. If it wasn't for the fact that Tom's still here, I'd probably be wondering whether I'd hallucinated the whole thing.

Then my mouth runs dry as I realise that whatever else I've done, one thing's for sure; I've seriously underestimated the woman I love.

I seriously underestimated how far she would involve herself in all this after I left Earth. I thought she'd work within official channels; use her formidable diplomatic skills to get herself heard. I thought she'd understood I wouldn't want her to _come_ here – to risk so much. Despite everything I tried to do to keep her out of this, she's gone and put herself right in the middle anyway.

As I sit back down heavily in the pilot's chair, there's a sinking feeling in my gut that has nothing to do with getting tossed around in this ship.

Despite the meds Tom gave me, my head still feels like I've gone ten rounds with a Nausicaan. I can sense Tom watching me. Finally, he approaches to check me over, looking at me like I'm some kind of unexploded bomb. He scans my ribcage, then motions for me to take off my shirt. Stiffness is setting in fast and when I try to get my right arm out of the sleeve I wince. He helps me manoeuvre the rest of the way out. Carefully lifting my right arm, he gets to work with the regenerator.

I owe him an apology.

"I'm sorry you and B'Elanna have been dragged into this."

"Don't be."

He holds my gaze. For a moment it seems like that's all he's going to say. Then he stops what he's doing, allowing my arm to rest back against my side.

"I'm sorry you didn't tell us what you were planning."

I'm really not in the mood for a discussion right now, but I appreciate what he's done in coming here, so I let it go.

"B'Elanna's your friend. Maybe it complicates things that you're still my commanding officer, but after the last time you kept things to yourself– Well, I thought you'd know that we'd both want to help."

He waits a beat, then lifts my arm again to resume his work.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it was a precision strike. Tom Paris knows exactly how to get to me. Come to think of it, he probably always has.

_Last time_.

B'Elanna still hasn't forgiven me for not telling her that my relationship with Kathryn had changed before Kathryn was declared dead. Even though that was almost two years ago now. Guess Tom probably hasn't either. I'll admit I've come to see they were right. I should have told someone. I needed help. People under my command got hurt. People died because of me.

But this is different.

"Kathryn shouldn't be here, Tom."

He looks at me expectantly.

I sigh out a breath. "There'll be fallout for her because of this. There are people who won't appreciate her involvement."

"She's tough. She'll weather the storm. You know that," he replies, unconvinced.

I avoid those piercing blue eyes of his. "I hope so." And for me it's exactly that – a hope rather than a belief. "She shouldn't have risked her career."

"Well, it was her choice, wasn't it? Guess she decided it was worth it."

I maintain my focus on the dull grey metal of the deck beneath our feet.

He doesn't push me for more, and I'm grateful. He shifts around behind me to work on my back. The only noise on the bridge is the low buzz of the regenerator. I take another breath – carefully this time – and exhale it slowly. While Tom carries on working, I try to bring some order to my thoughts.

Despite everything I tried to do to prevent it, I can already see that there will be repercussions for Kathryn. When it's the last thing I wanted and the last thing she needs right now.

If we were talking about the possibility of nothing more than a little professional awkwardness for her, then maybe Tom would be right, and it wouldn't matter too much. But it goes so much deeper than that.

There are things Tom doesn't know. Things Kathryn doesn't know.

Ever since Starfleet Command allowed the Cardassians to carve up the DMZ, I've made it my business to ensure I'm not blindsided by too many surprises. So, I've made a point of maintaining a couple of strategically placed contacts where it matters – they proved very useful when I was in the Maquis and they've stood me in good stead ever since. That's how I knew Sekaya and I were both under surveillance.

After we arrived back on Earth from the Full Circle mission, one of my contacts got in touch. Some of the things he passed on about how Kathryn is perceived among senior Starfleet movers and shakers gave me pause for thought. I swore to myself then that, wherever possible, I'd do whatever I could to make sure that being with me didn't cause her additional problems.

And right now, it's clear that I failed.

According to my contact there are two schools of thought among the top brass concerning the force of nature that is Kathryn Janeway. Each one is led by an elderly statesman of an admiral. How they view Kathryn is very different, but they both agree on one thing – they both want her behind a desk as soon as possible, not standing on the bridge of a starship.

The sympathetic faction thinks she is too valuable to risk. They still feel guilty for allowing her to investigate that Borg cube in a science vessel - as they damn well should. They want to keep her out of harm's way – have her fulfil a purely symbolic role. After all, she's the woman who destroyed a transwarp hub and brought back _Voyager_ against all the odds, only then to beat the Borg again by coming back from the dead.

The less sympathetic faction thinks she's unstable. They are still a long way from convinced that she's fully recovered from being assimilated and then 'suspended' for over a year. To them she's a wild card that can't be controlled.

Kathryn knew there was concern about her when Admiral Akaar recalled her to Earth for an evaluation period last year. What she doesn't know is quite how much of that concern has lingered.

I'd been intending to mention this to her, but she was just beginning to find her feet. I didn't want to undermine that. So I decided it was best to wait a while. Then, when she told me a couple of weeks back that there'd been a suggestion she manage a project planetside for the next few months, she surprised me. I expected her to rail against it, but she seemed almost… relieved. So, there seemed even less reason to mention what I'd heard.

My contact also told me that neither faction was too happy about her allying herself with me. That wasn't exactly a surprise.

In the eyes of a certain type of Starfleet admiral I'll always be the man who betrayed the Federation by joining the Maquis; the man who fell apart pretty spectacularly when one woman died, and who tried to resign his commission yet again when another woman he was close to needed help. I can't change the past or the shadows it casts forward, but I can do my damnedest not to make things worse.

Needless to say, neither of these two admirals were too pleased when Kathryn was given command of the Full Circle fleet. But that was exactly where she needed to be, and no one else could have done what she did at that point in time.

But the fleet is back now, and things change. She has everything to prove right now.

I'd have kept her out of this completely if I could, but it just proved too hard. In the weeks before I left Earth, it was taking up all my time. In order to stay sane I needed to be able to tell her at least something of what was going on. Our lives together would've been impossible otherwise.

But the last thing I wanted was to be responsible for irrevocably damaging her career and changing her life for the worse. Because I'm not sure she'd know how to function outside Starfleet at the moment. She needs it – the familiarity, the security, the structure - while she comes to terms with the enormity of the experiences she's had this past decade. Right now, I think she needs it more than she needs me.

Of course Tom's right that Kathryn's tough. She's more than tough. She's one of the most resilient people I've ever met. But that's not to say she isn't still reeling from everything that's happened to her since getting assimilated and 'returning'. She's been through such a lot. I haven't forgotten how she almost decided to play it safe and turn down the fleet admiral job the first time – effectively returning what was left of the fleet to Earth and ending the mission – or so she thought at the time. She was afraid. She might not have wanted to admit it to anyone, not even to me, but she was afraid. And it wasn't like her.

I've been worried about the fallout from our last mission too. Some very personal fallout. Because I see what others don't. I see and I hear, and I hold her until it's over and she drifts into a more restful sleep.

She's been having nightmares – every night when we first got back. Although they were starting to become less frequent before all this blew up. And she talks about Mollah in her sleep. She may have given up on the idea of ever having a child of her own, but some part of her can't stop examining the significance of Mollah's existence in her counterpart's life. I can understand that. All those years ago, when I believed Seska's child was mine, my thoughts were never far from him. They even stayed with him for a while after I knew he wasn't mine…

I realise that during these past few minutes, Tom has finished treating my ribs. I look up to find him waiting for me to notice.

"Sorry."

"No need to apologise. You've got a lot on your mind."

Then he takes care of a few minor cuts and bruises on my face and hands with the dermal regenerator. When he's done he passes me a loaded hypospray.

"Keep this for later. You've taken a few more knocks than the others – pilot's privilege." He gestures with his free hand to indicate the fact that my seat is a little further forward than tactical. "You may need a top-up in about eight hours."

"Thanks, Tom." I shoulder my way back into my shirt, moving more easily now. "Although, I still wish you hadn't been dragged into this."

"Don't worry about it. It was in my best interest actually. Can't say I fancied being promoted to Acting Captain right now."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Just get yourself back so you can do some serious grovelling where it matters," he says, packing up the medkit.

I feel the heat rising in my cheeks and realise too late to stop them that my fingers have strayed to my ear. "Think it might take more than that."

"She was worried."

"And angry."

"And angry. Give it time."

Time can do a lot, but something tells me that Kathryn won't be keeping a candle in the window as she eagerly awaits my return to Earth.

"I'll send B'Elanna over."

I look up. "I'll brace for impact then."

He has the good grace to smile at my feeble attempt at humour. "I can always make another house call if she does you any serious damage."

"We could certainly do with her help. The ship has taken so much damage we'll be lucky to get warp engines back online."

"Well, let's hope she can, because I don't think the Admiral has a trip to your home colony on our itinerary at the moment."

With that, we say our goodbyes and he's gone.

Sveta and Kohana reappear and we start systems' checks to see what else we'll need help with.

Only a few minutes later, however, I find my hands have stilled over the control panel as my mind revisits the events of the past few hours.

At best, I'd hoped that the sympathetic councillors we'd been working on might have come through for us. We'd been pressuring them to speak out against a decision that was unworthy of the Federation. The very best I'd hoped for at this point was that they'd demand the handover process be put on hold while negotiations reopened. Then our allies from the neighbouring system would have had time to get here with a whole lot more defensive reinforcements. Enough to make even the Breen reconsider trying to land by force. I hadn't had time to think much further ahead. It didn't seem to me like this was a problem with an immediate solution.

But the developments Kathryn outlined change all that – they change everything. As long as nothing goes wrong now, the people of this system are safe. I can breathe easy again for Sekaya and her family. I won't have to give up the career I've been putting my all into for the past two years. I was prepared to do it, but to know now that I won't have to and I can pick up where I left off, well, that's a gift. And I'm truly thankful. Thankful to Kathryn.

But I can see it's still going to be a great deal harder to pick up where I left off with her.

XxX

B'Elanna's arrival stirs me from my reverie and brings me back to the present.

I'm relieved to see that she looks significantly less pissed than Kathryn did.

"You're not going to lay into me then?" I test, after we've been working side by side on repairs for a few minutes.

"Would it make any difference?"

I shrug.

She purses her lips. "I get it. You don't like to ask for help. Well, some of the time that's fine. But other times it isn't. I know. I learned the hard way." She shoots me a sideways glance. "Some damn fool petaQ had the nerve to twist my arm and force me to confront things. Told me I was part of a family who wouldn't stand by and let me self-destruct."

"I wasn't on a self-destruct mission here, B'Elanna."

"No? Well, it sure looked that way from where I was standing."

A breath that turns into a sigh escapes me. "I thought maybe you'd understand."

She says nothing.

I scrub a hand across my face, as snippets of the exchanges of the last half hour come back to me. _A stroke of luck. Pure chance enabled you to intervene…_

I try to explain.

"Regardless of everything Kathryn found out about this planet, Clavis, someone still needed to _be_ here – to physically _do_ something to stop the Breen landing. They've never been known to move out once they're in situ."

"What I don't understand is how you planned to do that," she counters immediately. "You must have known that the Breen would have found a way to land _eventually_. And then what?" She turns to face me. "Would you have stayed and fought them? To the death?"

We lock eyes. I don't need another argument right now, but if I can't explain it to B'Elanna, then I probably don't have a hope in hell of getting through to anyone else. I try again.

"Since we first got back to this quadrant, there've been plenty of decisions that have caused me – and Kathryn for that matter - to raise an eyebrow. But I understand the times we're living in, B'Elanna. I understand that sometimes uncomfortable compromises are necessary. But this, here? This was different. If the handover had gone ahead, the Federation would have crossed a line. So yes, I'd have placed myself squarely on the Marsadan side of that line with Sekaya and Kalem."

B'Elanna breaks eye contact and turns back to the console and carries on working in silence.

"I understand why you wanted to act," she says quietly a few minutes later. "Of course I do. And I'd have helped you. So would a lot of people. I just don't understand why you tried to do something like this on your own."

"We weren't on our own here. You saw there were eight ships working with us here already, and there's another sympathetic group from two systems away. They've dispatched another seven ships – due to get here tomorrow. Our job was to keep the Breen from landing until then. And we'd have done it. The mines would've disabled them – that's all. They weren't as powerful as Kathryn presumed. I calculated the yield myself."

"And you didn't tell her?"

"I got as far as explaining about the mines, but let's just say she wasn't exactly in a mood to listen. I doubt it'd have made a difference anyway."

A few seconds pass while I debate whether to tell B'Elanna more.

"She thinks I don't trust her."

The look she gives me makes it clear she isn't surprised. "Well, do you?"

"Of course."

"Then I guess you have to figure out how to prove that to her."

Easier said than done…

A few minutes later, B'Elanna moves to work with Kohana. After a surprisingly short time, our battered warp drive is back online thanks to her expertise and her unique ability to improvise with whatever's in front of her.

When she's all finished, she comes to find me again. I hang back, unsure of where I stand with her right now. She steps into me and hugs me, hard. A little too hard for my still slightly tender ribs actually. But I'm glad all the same. Then she's gone and I'm left to my thoughts again as we prepare the ship for departure.

My motivation for keeping my involvement here clandestine had a great deal more to do with Kathryn's career than with my own. If I hadn't had to think about how my actions would impact on her, I wouldn't have bothered with a cover story to buy me time. As soon as they announced the decision to cede the Marsadan system I'd have said publicly that I couldn't stay within a Federation that has failed to learn from even its own recent history.

I value my career in Starfleet a great deal. It's enabled me to do many of the things I dreamt of as a boy, and more. But it's not the only thing I value in this life. I need to be able to look myself in the eye. I had to ask the question – How much is our security worth? The answer may not always be convenient, but that doesn't mean we should stop asking.

Where some Federation councillors saw 'an asset' I see something very different. I see an ancient civilisation with a culture and traditions that are vitally linked to the environment that nurtured them. I couldn't choose to stay within an organisation that, for reasons of political expediency, turned a blind eye and paid for our security with the misery of others. Even if honouring that choice meant the risking of my chance of happiness with the only woman who completes me.

Having Kathryn back in my life since her return from the dead has been the most extraordinary blessing the fates have ever granted me. I only hope now that they'll also grant me another chance to prove that to her. I don't want to have to contemplate my life without her right there in the centre where she belongs.

[TBC]


	6. Chapter 6

When I get back to the bridge of the _Pantera_ and relieve B'Elanna of command, she tells me that in my absence we were hailed by the Marsadan government. Apparently I've been invited to beam down so that the Presider and her ministers can thank me personally.

We hail them in turn and I assure them it's really not necessary, but a moment later the lively eyes and glowing face of Chakotay's sister appear on the viewscreen.

"Admiral Janeway, I would be neglecting my duties as advisor on interplanetary relations if I didn't succeed in enticing the Marsadan system's new champion down to visit."

I can't refuse Sekaya. B'Elanna says she'd like to come with me as soon as she's given whatever help she can over on Sveta's ship.

I haven't seen Sekaya since _Voyager_ 's mission to Loran II, just after Chakotay had been made captain. I surprised Chakotay by assigning her to work as a civilian spiritual advisor to the colonists. She was a trained shaman so it made sense. After the mission she stayed on the planet for a while, helping the colonists rebuild their lives. Then she decided to travel. Chakotay told me she came to Marsada for a short visit and never left. Her life has changed pretty radically since then. Now she has a husband and two small children – she had two pregnancies almost back to back, despite being the wrong side of forty-five when she started. The girls are only ten months apart, I think. The younger one had her first birthday just a few weeks ago.

Chakotay and I had actually discussed the possibility of taking a proper vacation soon – a first for both of us in a _long_ , long time – and combining it with a visit to his sister. He'd already told me about the beauty of this planet and I knew he would have liked to introduce me to his little nieces. He's very proud of them. He only had good things to say about his brother-in-law as well.

So, it's with a heavy heart that I beam down. Never once did I imagine I'd visit this place without him.

B'Elanna and I are received by the Premier herself and all of her senior ministers. They are eloquent in their praise of our success in persuading the master of the Breen ship to listen to us. The Premier insists I am an honorary citizen now. She assures me there will be babies, boats and streets named after me for years and years to come. Then Sekaya appears and tells us she's volunteered to give us a short tour of the most beautiful spots the planet we have saved has to offer.

She looks the same as when I last saw her, apart from the fact that her skin has more colour - doubtless because of the amount of sun here. She almost looks like a Marsadan. The inhabitants of this planet have dark skin, dark eyes and sleek jet-black hair.

Once the officials leave us, Sekaya seems overcome with emotion. We stand face to face in the light, airy reception hall of the central government building and it takes her a moment to collect herself. Then she embraces me.

"Kathryn." Her smile is warm and her eyes full. "I told Chakotay that the Federation would forsake us. I thought they would repeat the mistakes that cost us our loved ones before. But you, Kathryn, you changed all that. And I've never been so glad to have been wrong."

The curve of her lip and her warm brown eyes bring to mind another smile and other eyes.

"I'm glad we found a peaceful solution." To my surprise, I find that tears have come to my eyes as well.

"So am I. You'll be celebrated in homes across this planet tonight and for a long time to come. My brother would have been too if he hadn't insisted on keeping his involvement secret."

Then she turns to B'Elanna and they embrace.

"And to you and Tom we owe a great debt of thanks, B'Elanna," she says, pulling back. "I'll never forget what you've done for us."

"It's good to see you again, Sekaya," B'Elanna replies with genuine warmth.

Sekaya smiles, then addresses us both. "We hope you'll stay a few hours at least. Long enough for us to show you a tiny fraction of what you helped preserve. And then you must let us offer you dinner at our home. Kalem is there with the girls. He wants to thank you in person too." Her smile is radiant as she tells B'Elanna, "You must _all_ come. My little ones have heard all about Miral from their uncle. Aiyanna is very keen to meet her."

B'Elanna looks to me for confirmation that I am okay with this arrangement and I nod.

XxX

The first stop on our tour is refreshments, after which we're taken down to a subterranean viewing platform to experience the only underwater gallicite caves in the Federation.

When we reach the platform, I look up through the transparent dome around us to the ceiling of the cavern. It's almost entirely silver. It's composed of unbelievably thick strands of the rare mineral that merge together in several places. The shimmering walls are creatively lit to emphasise the mesmerising beauty of the naturally occurring geometric patterns in the lattices of gallicite that stretch down from the roof of the cave.

B'Elanna is enthralled. I wonder if it's all down to her aesthetic appreciation, or if part of her engineer's brain can't help but calculate how many warp coils she could refit with just a tiny fraction of what's on view in this one cavern…

Sekaya seems pleased by our enthusiastic reactions. She stands next to me in companionable silence for a moment. Then she speaks at a level meant only for me to hear.

"I still don't really know how to thank you and Chakotay, Kathryn. For everything you've risked for us. I expected Chakotay to help us, but to know that you supported him by keeping up his cover story and that you carried on working for us back on Earth, well, it means such a lot to me."

I smile. "Getting a personal guided tour from the advisor for interplanetary relations herself is thanks enough. Really."

"This is the very least I can do," she replies. "Others did try to help. The sympathetic Federation council members we spoke to argued with passion for a change in the agreement. We were grateful. But when the decision was made, they still did nothing but talk. And while they were talking, the Breen arrived in orbit early to take over. But you and Chakotay, well, the two of you really made a difference, Kathryn. I'll never forget that."

She holds my gaze and her dark eyes reflect the shimmering silver of the cavern walls. There's so much of her brother in her face at that moment that I have to look away.

It's already clear to me that there are things Sekaya doesn't know.

I can't say I'm surprised to discover that Chakotay hasn't pointed out to her that he and I _weren't_ working together on this – that I actually begged him not to come... He wouldn't want her to know what coming here has cost him. As I stare straight ahead, my mind flashes back to a moment in my apartment where I arched into him and demanded he stay with me. I feel my treacherous body respond. God, how I've missed his touch-

I swallow hard, pushing the image and the feelings away and forcing my eyes to focus on the spectacle in front of me. I can still see Sekaya out the corner of my eye. She watches me for a little longer, then she speaks again.

"I've been considering whether to advise the Marsadans to remain in the Federation. It's helped restore my faith, seeing you here. It's reminded me that the Federation has many good, strong people working for it."

I turn to face her again. "I'm glad. I certainly hope the Presider and her ministers don't decide to leave."

"The Marsadans are a deeply spiritual people, slow to take offence and quick to forgive." Her tone is optimistic now.

I smile. "Those are very admirable qualities."

"They are." Her lips curl mischievously and the silver coloured glint in her eyes invites me into her confidence. "And very useful in a husband too, I assure you." She presses her hand to my forearm. "I'm looking forward to introducing you to Kalem. I am truly blessed, Kathryn. He tells me he is a typical Marsadan – and Marsadan men are interested in fishing, surprisingly dangerous water sports, their children and the art of love making."

A surprised splutter of laughter escapes me, causing B'Elanna to turn our way. Sekaya laughs too, clearly amused by my reaction. The smile she flashes at B'Elanna draws the latter over to join us.

"I'm sorry, B'Elanna, I was just telling Kathryn about my husband."

"No need to apologise." B'Elanna shrugs. "Hearing me describe Tom often has the same effect on people."

I shoot B'Elanna a friendly scowl and try to salvage my dignity. "What does Kalem do, Sekaya?" Chakotay probably told me, but I've forgotten.

"He's a chef." There's that mischievous smile again.

"How wonderful." I smile back. Now that's another useful skill for a partner to have…

"He loves his work, and he loves to conduct research for new dishes at home, which _I_ love. You'll see this evening."

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. We are taken to several other beautiful spots. Sekaya is as captivating as ever. But, as the day wears on, it becomes paradoxically harder not to look into her face and see her brother in every other expression. More than once I hear an echo of his voice in her intonation and choice of phrase.

During a walk around a lake covered with giant floating lilies, I leave B'Elanna and Sekaya talking and take a moment to myself. A smooth green wooden bench invites me to sit and marvel at how the lilies glisten in the turquoise water, slotting over one another like the scales of a fish.

I had no idea quite how beautiful it would be here – like its inhabitants, this planet is beautiful in a quiet, unassuming way. I've been to plenty of beautiful planets, but they don't always make me want to stay longer. Just spending one afternoon here has made me yearn for an existence where I could enjoy an environment like this for longer than a few hours of shore leave. I guess I really was ready for my first vacation in years…

If it was closer to a more densely inhabited area of space, I'm sure that Marsada's tropical climate, quiet coves, sheltered sandy beaches and high-tech water sports facilities would make it a popular holiday destination with many humanoid species. It has a slightly smaller landmass than Earth and what land there is forms one large continent that circles the globe like a rich green cummerbund, patterned with an extensive network of rivers, lakes and reservoirs. The oceans and the rivers are integral to Marsadan life. Sekaya said their mythology is full of powerful marine and river gods and goddesses and sea creatures with surprising powers.

The nature of the architecture with the emphasis on looking out of a structure and the large open windows everywhere suggests that Marsadans value natural light. And there's something about the quality of the light here. Colours look different. Reds and blues seem richer, deeper somehow and there's a supernatural depth to the purple of the flowers growing wild on the edge of the sidewalks. I make a note to ask someone about the nature of the atmosphere and the way light is refracted here, to explain why my eyes are seeing things differently.

The built environment is interwoven with lush foliage in every different hue of green imaginable – well, imaginable to Terrans at least. Apparently, far more shades of the colour are distinguishable to the Marsadan eye than to most humans - they have sixty-five different words for green.

There is such an abundance of life here. I can easily understand why these peaceful people were desperate to defend what they have. I'm moved by the enchanting environments I've seen. Perhaps it's simply because the experience of visiting these places has been heightened by the knowledge that if the Breen had been allowed to take over, all of this would have lived on only in memory.

And yet the very fact I'm having such a thought makes me uneasy. We shouldn't have to _go_ somewhere, experience a world and meet the people to care enough to come to their defence. It shouldn't make a difference that this planet is so beautiful. Even if, to me, it was nothing but an ugly block of ice and it's inhabitants were crazy xenophobes, it'd still be wrong to forcibly remove established communities of people who called it home. We should be prepared to defend the rights of _all_ Federation citizens. That much is obvious. And, of course, I _am_ prepared to do that. I guess it comes down to how we actually go about it.

As I sit here some uncomfortable questions seem to settle around me on this sea-green bench.

Given the way this crisis was intentionally obscured and played down on Earth, was I only spurred into meaningful action because of my connection to Chakotay's sister?

Is it possible that there might actually be some truth in _some_ of what Sveta said to me on the smouldering bridge of her monstrous ship. How big a part did luck play in getting me here?

What would I have done if I _hadn't_ chanced upon that information about Clavis? Would I have been like the sympathetic Federation council members Sekaya mentioned – still on Earth, still talking, when the Breen moved in early and took over? _Fiddling while Rome burns_ , I hear my mother say…

The truth is that I'm not sure.

When Chakotay believed he was out of options, he chose to come here and fight off the Breen. And I suspect he would have chosen to fight the Federation too eventually.

If it had been the only option, I'd have used force to stop the Breen from landing early too. But would I ever have felt that taking up arms against the Federation, against _Starfleet_ , could really be the right thing to do here?

I'm not sure I can answer that. I'm just damn grateful I don't have to.

My gut still tells me there is _always_ another way, but that's as far as I get...

When the decision was announced and Chakotay said he was coming here, I didn't insist I come with him. I felt like I couldn't – and he didn't expect me to. And, of course, I'm glad I didn't, or I never would have found out about Clavis…

But what does it mean that he and I might never agree on what to do in a situation like this? Is it evidence of some fundamental difference in how we see things? Some fundamental incompatibility that will always be our undoing, however much we feel for each other?

I feel my head spin with all these questions. I press the back of my hand to my too-warm forehead. B'Elanna appears at my side, concern clouding her features.

"Are you all right, Admiral?"

I nod.

"It's time to go for dinner." She hesitates. "If you're sure you're okay."

"Yes. I'm fine." I stand and do my best to produce a smile.

We join Sekaya to make our way to her home.

XxX

Tom beams down with the children and joins us outside Sekaya's house. It's the middle house of three, situated on the edge of a small town. The plots appear reasonably large from the outside – it's possibly a hundred metres to their nearest neighbour's front door.

B'Elanna immediately takes her son from Tom and gives Miral all her attention while my goddaughter begins an account of something that sounds a lot like a list of what she ate for lunch.

"You've caught the sun, Admiral," Tom says to me quietly.

"Have I?"

"It suits you." He smiles gently.

I anticipate a little teasing at the expense of my Irish complexion, but he leaves it at that. I feel very aware of him watching me as we make our way indoors. His and B'Elanna's solicitousness is making me wonder if I'm looking a little worse for wear right now.

Then my attention is captured by Sekaya's home. It's spacious and full of light – it seems to me like everywhere on this planet is full of light. It's strange to have so many open windows – windows with no glazing, just arches to the outdoors. Apparently it rarely gets cool enough to need more. The shutters are there to keep the rain and the wildlife out rather than to keep warmth in.

"This is my husband, Kalem."

The tall, muscular man before me holds out both his hands. I follow suit. He squeezes mine and smiles.

"I'm honoured to meet you, Admiral Janeway." His quiet melodic voice suits his intelligent face and eyes.

" _Kathryn_ , please."

"I'm honoured to meet you, _Kathryn_. Chakotay and Sekaya speak very highly of you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kalem. They obviously speak very highly of you too."

He greets Tom and B'Elanna. Then he gives his full attention to Miral, before managing to elicit a chuckle from Michael after only a couple of seconds of interaction.

Sekaya continues the introductions. "And these two partners in crime are Aiyanna and Kaliska."

Kaliska, the younger of the two, holds out her hands for her father to pick her up. Once she's sitting astride his hip, she stares at me with her big brown eyes.

"Hello." I smile at Aiyanna who doesn't look my way. Then I greet the little one watching me, who responds by pressing her face into her father's broad chest.

"They're adorable," I tell their parents.

Sekaya introduces the Paris-Torres family to her husband and children. Kaliska keeps her face half-hidden and Aiyanna doesn't seem interested in anyone but Miral.

Both of Sekaya's little girls have the perfectly defined lips of their mother's family and dark eyes that seem too large for their small faces. Aiyanna already looks like her mother. She has the same fine features, almost the same colouring. To me at least, Kaliska is indistinguishable from a Marsadan child, with her sleek black hair and her darker skin.

Then Kaliska notices Miral too and wriggles for her father to set her down. She takes a few surprisingly confident steps to stand directly in front of Miral and looks up at the four year old. Apparently unfazed by all this attention, Miral calmly regards this new small person.

"And somewhere under the furniture is Lousha, our family pet," Kalem tells the children. Miral's eyes suddenly snap to our host.

"She's like a large black cat, but with much bigger paws and no tail," Sekaya explains. "She's shy, but she likes to play. Do you like animals, Miral?"

All of Miral's attention switches instantly from Kalem to Sekaya. "I want a pet."

B'Elanna and Tom exchange knowing glances.

"Aiyanna, see if you can tempt Lousha out," Kalem quietly prompts his daughter. "Miral would like to meet her."

Aiyanna steps forward and points to the door to the living room. Miral disappears immediately in search of the unsuspecting animal. Aiyanna hastily grabs her little sister's hand and drags the little one off at speed to follow the interesting guest. Tom takes it upon himself to wander in after them and keep an eye.

"Has Chakotay already been to say his goodbyes?" I ask Sekaya. After all, forewarned is forearmed.

"We had to make do with a call." Her tone is wistful. "I don't think he had time - you know how tight a schedule he's on. And anyway, their transporters had given up the ghost."

This news throws me a little more off balance. B'Elanna didn't mention their transporters. And it seems Chakotay didn't ask to use ours. I school my features and inhale, refusing to feel bad that he had to say his goodbyes over the comm.

Sekaya smiles, oblivious to my discomfort. "It was probably safer that way. His face is a little too recognisable. My famous brother, the Starfleet captain, is known by some people even here. And on Marsada, neighbours have a habit of calling in unexpectedly."

Kalem still seems completely enchanted by Michael. "May I?" he asks B'Elanna tentatively, hoping for permission to hold him.

"He's all yours." She hands the baby over.

"This little man is a delight," Kalem replies, with a broad smile.

Michael seems quite content, his position affording him an excellent view of his mother. His contentment increases when Kalem allows him to get a chubby fistful of his long black ponytail. Kalem's large brown hands securely holding Michael somehow manage to make B'Elanna and Tom's very substantial baby seem small and delicate.

Kalem shoots a playful glance at Sekaya. "We need one this flavour too, you know."

She swats his shoulder. "We have enough."

"You remember what we say here," his soft melodious voice replies straight away, "You can never have enough children."

"I _do_ remember, yes."

B'Elanna raises an eyebrow. "That's a saying I don't think many women would forget."

"Kalem has nearly as many sayings as my father," Sekaya tells us. "Although Kalem's are usually less cryptic and often involve fishing or food!"

Kalem laughs, and it's as joyful as it is infectious. I find myself laughing too.

"She's right. I cannot deny it." Then he turns to me, more serious now. "And I should have found one with which to thank you. You cannot know how grateful we are for all you've done, working for the safety of our planet."

"Sekaya has already thanked us quite enough." I smile, pressing my hand to his arm.

Graciously nodding his acknowledgement, he continues to hold my gaze for a beat longer. "I hear you are the keeper of Chakotay's heart. He is a wise man. He has chosen a safe place for it."

"Kalem, you're embarrassing her," Sekaya gently chastises, nudging him and smiling warmly at me.

"You have to forgive me, Kathryn." The playful twinkle is back in his eye. "I'm learning about your Terran ways from my wife here. Any mistakes I make must be down to her faulty teaching."

Sekaya cocks her head to one side. "I'm sure you told me a bad fisherman blames his rod."

"But what if his wife made that rod?" Kalem winks at her, tickling Michael's tummy as he says it and making him gurgle happily. "And what if she forgot some important things?"

As they lead us through their house to the outdoor seating area, they continue to tease each other. I'm grateful I'm no longer the centre of attention.

A large white awning, extending overhead out of the back wall of the house, creates shade in the seating area. At the end of the wooden deck beneath our feet, there doesn't appear to be any sort of visible boundary between their land and a scrub-like area, which appears to blend in turn into a thick forest only a few metres further away.

Kalem seats himself opposite me, still holding Michael. Sekaya fetches a bottle of what looks like wine, serving me first. A few metres to our left is a large outdoor cooking range, from which various delectable smells are already emanating. I smile at B'Elanna next to me, and I try to relax. The wine certainly helps.

Once we're all settled with drinks, Kalem and Sekaya tell us a little about the past few weeks.

"This has been a dark time for us." At the change in Kalem's tone, Michael stills in his arms, looking up to watch him. "People have been gravely troubled by what almost happened," our host goes on. "There hasn't been an armed conflict here in many lifetimes."

"That was why I asked Chakotay for help," Sekaya says. "Ministers were coming to me for advice. To _me_! I have no military expertise at all. But there are few off-worlders here, and no one who had worked for Starfleet. So, I found myself considered an expert." She shakes her head in recollection, pausing for a moment to take a mouthful of wine. "I was asked to act as liaison to the neighbouring groups who offered us assistance. Chakotay helped me decide which offers to accept and which to decline."

"Some were advocating aggressive diversionary tactics," Kalem explains carefully. "Suggesting we use the ships we had assembled to attack a planet not far from here that is controlled by the Breen. Others seemed less extreme in their ideas, but they still went beyond what Chakotay advised. He helped Sekaya navigate the right path."

"Once he got here he planned the defence strategy for our planet." Sekaya pauses. "I feel a little like a fraud, actually. I've received a great deal of praise, when, in fact, the strategy was all my brother's. I was simply the mouthpiece."

"He was glad he could help," B'Elanna tells them.

"He warned that our unwelcome guests would come _before_ the date the Federation had set for their arrival," Kalem adds.

Sekaya sighs out a breath. "The government here was naïve, and I confess that I was too. That possibility had simply never occurred to us."

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Sekaya," I reassure her. "Even the most seasoned negotiators in the Federation didn't expect the Breen to disregard the agreed timetable."

The children suddenly reappear and troop past us with Tom bringing up the rear. The mood changes instantly. Watching Miral lead the parade past, I wonder if she's ever been happier. She makes a very proud mother duck with two little ducklings waddling in step behind her. Lousha, the elusive pet, is still nowhere to be seen. Probably for the best, unless she is very tolerant of small hands in unwanted places…

Then Sekaya asks for my help with setting the dining table. It's on the far side of the large tiled cooking range. She tops up our glasses and I follow her as she carries them over. Kalem and B'Elanna continue to converse.

Sekaya sets our glasses down and hands me the cutlery to lay out.

"I knew it could cause problems for Chakotay to help us," she tells me, "but I didn't know where else to turn. When I asked him to come I knew he would. I expected it of him – he's family."

She looks up from arranging the napkins.

"But for _you_ to do so much for us..." She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "I hope I'm not overstepping our friendship if I tell you that I feel blessed that Chakotay has brought you into our lives. I think of you as family too, Kathryn. It only increases my hope that you two will make it official one day soon."

She withdraws her hand from mine and smiles warmly.

I feel the heat of a flush spreading up my neck, betraying something of the desperate turmoil of emotions that her kindly meant words inspire in me. I honestly don't know what to say to her, so I busy myself with the table settings. Mercifully, a few seconds later the pressure of being hostess claims her attention and I'm spared her scrutiny because she's scanning the table, asking herself what's missing.

When she's happy with the place settings she looks up again, picking up her wine glass and passing me mine.

"Kalem and I rely on each other for many things. We're equals in most things, but he's never left this planet. He looks to me for guidance when it comes to dealing with off-worlders. And I find that I still look to Chakotay. It was good to have his counsel again. I miss him."

"I know he misses you too." My heart thuds painfully in my chest. I take another sip of wine.

"I'm sorry him coming here has kept you apart for a while. When he arrived I asked him about you, but he said very little." She shrugs. "You know what he can be like."

I manage to produce a small smile. "Yes. I do."

"So how are you, Kathryn? _Really_." She rests her hip against the table. "What has it been like, coming back from the dead?"

"That's a hard question to answer."

She raises an eyebrow inviting more.

"I'm still making sense of the experience, I guess."

"Of course," she says softly. "I'm sorry I shouldn't pry."

"It's fine. You're not prying. I'm just not sure I've come to any sensible conclusions about any of it yet."

I know I'm not giving her much, but I still haven't worked out a satisfactory answer to many of the questions that continue to trouble me.

Questions like, why me?

Of all the people in all the history of humanity who could have been spared death and restored to life, why _me_? It feels arrogant to question, but even more arrogant not to. The consensus seems to be that I should just be happy and accept it's my destiny, whatever that's supposed to mean. But that question continues to trouble me. I talked to Chakotay a little about it, but I wondered whether he, or anyone with strong spiritual beliefs for that matter, would ever be able to really appreciate how I feel. Sekaya would be certain to accept what's happened to me as the will of the spirits or the fates. Chakotay would too, to a degree.

"And what will your next assignment be?" she asks gently, changing the subject.

"I'm afraid I haven't much to tell you there either. Several projects have been suggested for my attention. I just haven't decided yet which one I'd like to take on."

"I imagine you must be due a vacation."

"Yes." I laugh. "That's certainly true."

I'm so grateful at that point for the interruption of Miral and the little ones. They seem to have finally tracked down the unfortunate Lousha, because there's a wild whoop from Miral and a streak of black swishes past my ankles. Sekaya takes control of the situation and I watch as she skilfully brings order to chaos.

I don't want to talk about my career right now. Because there are things I hadn't worked out there as well. Things I hadn't said out loud yet. Not even to Chakotay.

When he'd asked me about my next move, I said I was considering managing one of the Earth based projects I'd been offered, but that I hadn't decided yet. He'd seemed surprised. I wondered if he was a little disappointed too – if he thought I'd want to involve myself in the diplomatic angle of _Voyager_ 's next mission. They start by going to DS9 to collect the much-awaited delegates from three new Gamma Quadrant species. But he hadn't pressed me any further. He knows full disclosure doesn't come easily to me.

It wasn't strictly true to say I hadn't decided. I had. I'd already decided that I wanted to stay on Earth for a while.

I know for certain that in the future I'll go back out into space and journey into the unknown again – I couldn't imagine a life for myself where I didn't do that eventually – but for the next few months I just felt like I wanted to stay put. Like I _needed_ to stay put. To keep my feet on solid ground – just for a while. Spend some time trying to reconnect more meaningfully with family and friends – rediscovering more about what's really important in this life that's been given back to me. Building a life together on Earth with Chakotay had been part of that.

And then all this happened...

And now… now, I-

"Kathryn?" I feel a large hand on my shoulder – my wine-dulled senses didn't alert me anyone was approaching. For a crazy fraction of a second I expect to see Chakotay when I look up. Maybe it's because Tom used my first name.

"You looked miles away. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I smile up at him. "I was just thinking it's hours since we ate."

The second that our eyes meet we reach an understanding. He knows I know he isn't fooled for a minute. And he also knows I'm counting on the fact he won't call me out on it.

He nods towards the seating area. "Let's go join the others."

[TBC]


	7. Chapter 7

I'm dreaming again about how things were between us only a few weeks ago, because I can feel the solid warmth of Chakotay spooning me.

I'm resting back against him, skin to skin, the angle of my hips slightly open. In this dream, our morning is following a familiar pattern. Unlike me, he's a morning person. He says it's his favourite time because he gets to see as well as feel me. I can certainly feel him right now. I smile and lean a little further back, hooking my knee over his thigh and opening myself to him a little more. This slight turn of my body traps a hardening nipple between the knuckles of the large hand sleeping around my breast, sending a hot pulse of pleasure through me. I anticipate it'll be only a matter of seconds before he comes alive to enjoy the way my body is already alight for him right now. All it would take is for the strong fingers resting on my belly to take a morning dip and-

Oh God. _Oh God_. This isn't-

_Last night_. I can't-

My eyes snap open and my heart beats wildly against my ribcage.

Incredibly slowly, I lift the leg that's hooked over his thigh and bring it back in to rest against my other leg. Using my stomach muscles, I draw my lower body away from his, tiny fraction by tiny fraction. Then I lie totally still, hoping against hope that he won't wake.

Before I can formulate any sensible thoughts he stirs, almost breaking the surface of sleep. The arm across my body moves as he turns onto his back, shifting me with him and slotting me into his side. My head rests half on my pillow and half on the bronze mound of his shoulder muscle. He takes a deep breath and settles again.

Within seconds I can feel him fall back into a deeper sleep. Within minutes he's snoring lightly. I look up to see his eyes moving under closed lids as he dreams the early morning away.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess. There are flashbacks to words spoken in anger, silent tears of frustration, and moments of pure synchronised bliss.

I've lost control here – if I ever had it.

I didn't expect things to take this course. My reasoning was derailed last night by everything I was feeling. I _knew_ this wasn't the right thing to do. It's solved nothing. Yet part of me wants nothing more right now than to stay here, with him holding me so close, even if in our thinking we are still miles apart. Because I can't deny just how good it feels to have his sleeping form back to fill the Chakotay-shaped space that I was so acutely aware of beside me every time I've lain in this bed since he left.

If I could have known the evening he left that he'd be back, whole and unharmed, only a few weeks later, then I'd have cried with relief. And I _am_ relieved. Of course I am. So much. But I can't just ignore everything that's happened.

A solitary tear spills out, slowly making its way across my face to land on his skin, its hot moisture adding to everything that's already sealing me to him. I hate this. This is so damn _hard_. And I know that all I've done is make it harder.

I know that I need to extract myself. In more ways than one. So I steel myself and force myself into action. Enough. _Enough_.

Logically, I know I have several factors working _for_ me too. He came here last night straight from his ship and he was exhausted, so I'm guessing he'll continue to sleep heavily for several hours.

Moving oh so slowly, one limb at a time almost, I disentangle myself from his sleeping embrace.

In the study, I use a sheet of the creamy white paper he keeps next to his antique writing tools. The strange metal nib of the silver-plated ink pen scratches painfully across the fibres of the paper. My inelegant letters tell him I'll stay at my mother's until he ships out next week. That way, he won't have to ask friends to put him up and we won't have to involve anyone else. I'll be able to use the local transporter station near my mother's to beam in and out of HQ each day. It'll give me time to think. I can't do that when we're together. I think we just proved that pretty conclusively.

When I place the thick sheet of paper on the nightstand on his side of the bed, I try not to linger in there. When I pull the drapes back a tiny fraction so I have enough light to slip a few things into a bag, I try not to look at how the early morning sunlight falls across the bed, bathing his exposed chest and his strong features in its faint light. I try not to watch him sleeping just a while longer. I try not to lean in and kiss the familiar grey-blue lines on his brow before I leave him behind.

XxX

I let myself into my mother's house as quietly as I can. Unlike the man I've just left, my mother is a light sleeper and it wouldn't take much to get her down here.

In the living room, I sink into my father's old armchair and watch the day unfold across the well-kept garden. It looks wonderful in any season, but it's particularly beautiful now with all the summer flowers in bloom and the lawn a lush and healthy green. My mother spends hours out there. She's quite the expert on all things horticultural these days.

My fingers ripple through the tasselled edging of the pale green throw draped over this armchair. The fabric has worn soft and thin and the familiar paisley pattern has been faded by several decades of morning sun. The timeless calm of this spot allows my mind to settle a little. Within minutes I find myself thinking back to the moment when I heard Chakotay quietly letting himself into my apartment last night.

XxX

Twelve hours earlier

I'm sitting at my desk in the stillness of the study when I hear him. I've a pretty good idea of why he didn't call ahead. I'm guessing he was afraid of what I might say.

He's not the only one.

My pulse quickens and I inhale a steadying breath. It's been over a week since we last spoke, face to face on the bridge of Sveta's ship.

I leave the proposal I was half-reading and slowly make my way out to lean against the doorjamb. He walks into the living room, dressed in dark jeans and a thin black jacket, his soft leather bag slung across his body.

"Kathryn." When he says my name his eyes hold the warmth they always do. "I've missed you."

He waits, apparently uncertain of whether to approach me, and, for a split second, I have to fight the urge to walk straight to him. When he lays his jacket down on a chair next to his bag, I notice that his movements are lacking his usual easy confidence. He doesn't take the bag into the study. He doesn't hang the jacket up. He doesn't do any of the things he'd usually do on getting home. It would appear he's presuming nothing.

It strikes me for the first time how precarious our arrangement has been all along from his perspective. This is _my_ apartment, my space. He was only ever here subject to my continuing approval. The moment it's in doubt, the rug can be pulled quite literally from under his feet. He doesn't have a place of his own here on Earth – or anywhere else for that matter.

When it's clear I'm not coming any closer, he crosses the room and pulls me gently to him. I don't have it in me to push him away, but I can't relax into an embrace I don't feel. I'm rigid in his arms. He quickly senses this and releases me.

I retreat to the study on the pretext of fetching my wine. I offer him some. He declines, but he follows me in. I move to stand facing the window at the far end of the desk.

We manage a few minutes of stilted conversation, neither of us broaching the subject of just what it is he thinks he's doing here. Is he presuming we'll pick up where we left off before all this happened? Or is he here to pick up some things?

He asks how it's been for me at Starfleet Command in the aftermath of my involvement with the classified information on Clavis. He exhales with obvious relief when I tell him I haven't suffered any negative consequences yet. He already knows that my most prominent critic, the President's chief aide, resigned under a cloud, as did two members of the Federation council. Like the President's aide, they had both known about Clavis, but had kept quiet, choosing to use their considerable influence to push through the Marsadan deal.

A little more relaxed now, Chakotay tries to draw me out on what I've been working on. When I'm not very forthcoming, he asks if I've seen my mother or Phoebe, but I can't focus on any of these things.

I suddenly realise that even though it's late, he's been travelling and might not have eaten. So I ask. He says he has. I'm strangely disappointed, as I was ready to offer to make him something. It would have been a distraction. From this. From us.

Then it strikes me that I wouldn't usually offer to make him food. This is where he _lives_. He makes his own food! Usually makes mine too for that matter. We're both behaving as if he's become a visitor. I can't stop thinking about the significance of these things. He's no longer at home here.

I hold his gaze as a tense silence hangs between us.

"So, how are you are?" he asks, cautiously.

"I'm fine."

"You're _fine_."

The look we share makes several exchanges of scepticism and repeated assertion unnecessary.

"Why? What did you expect?"

He doesn't reply.

Jaw clenched, I turn my back on him to look out of the window. I don't want to do this. I can't do this. I don't even know what it is I'm doing.

For a moment I think he's left, because I hear him walk out of the study. I hear a door close. I bite down on the inside of my mouth as I'm ambushed by a mixture of disappointment and nausea.

But it was the door to the bathroom, and a few minutes later he walks back in to stand by the side of the desk, angling himself towards me.

"Please don't be like this, Kathryn," he says, as if it's somehow all _my_ doing that we're struggling to communicate.

Then he moves closer. "I'd rather you said what's on your mind than...this. I want to make things right again between us. Tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it. "

I huff out a mirthless half-laugh. "If only it were that simple."

"Then tell me what I have to do to make you understand."

I turn to face him, incensed. "The problem isn't my lack of understanding."

"I told you before, I wish to God I could apologise for what I did – if that's what you want to hear. But you know that I can't do that."

"It's not _about_ what you did!" I try to draw some of the frustration back in by inhaling deeply. "I may not agree with everything you did, but I _understand_ why you intervened."

"You said before that I don't trust you. Well, I do. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone."

As I hold his gaze, I know that we're both well aware of the fact that he tried to have this conversation with me before. Time was limited then, so I shut it down. I can't do that now.

"You shut me out, Chakotay. You didn't tell me what you were planning – or even that you knew you were under surveillance."

"I told you what was going on-"

" _No_. You didn't tell me how worried you were-"

"Kathryn, I've lost track of how many times I talked to you - to everyone - about these issues-"

"Yes, but once you knew it was all going to hell, you shut me out. You can't deny it. Those last few days-"

"I don't _want_ to deny it!" He throws up his hands, losing his legendary composure. "I knew the risks I was running by then. So, yes, I didn't involve you because I didn't want you to risk neglecting your duties as Admiral. To have them question your competence when you were just getting back into the swing of things. You still have your critics and I didn't want you to give them ammunition. I was already on leave. I had time. You didn't. You were working thirteen hours a day on the debriefing reports."

"Well, you underestimated me. I didn't neglect my duties. I did both."

"I know that now. And I'm sorry."

"Those last two months with you, I was so happy. I thought _we_ were happy."

"We _were_ happy."

"And now I feel cheated. All that time your thoughts were elsewhere, and I was blissfully ignorant. And I _hate_ that I know that now. It makes me feel so foolish."

"You're mad that I didn't share all of my fears with you. I can understand that. And I'm sorry. Next time-"

"No. I can't live like that. Only being party to what you _choose_ to share, to what you think I can cope with. I won't have anyone treat me like that."

He turns away from me and stands with his head bowed, his hands braced on the desk.

"This isn't going to work," I tell him.

"Oh no you don't!" He pushes off the desk and rounds on me. "You can't just shut down the discussion and make it all about us, Kathryn."

"It is about us."

He glares at me, fuming silently.

"It _is_ ," I insist. "And the fact you still can't see that makes me all the more sure it isn't going to work."

"Don't!" He's in my face now. I feel the barely contained frustration sparking off him. "Don't do that. Don't make... sweeping pronouncements. Just because of a setback – a disagreement."

I raise my chin. "This isn't a setback, Chakotay. This is… it's fundamental."

Then, even though a voice inside my head is telling me not to, I throw every other accusation I can think of at him. Even though I can feel control slipping away. Even though I know it won't help. I just can't seem to stop myself. I feel like I need to test this – test us – to push us to breaking point to see if we'll break.

There've been so many things that I've wanted to say to him, to _shout_ at him since all of this started. The pressure has been slowly increasing inside of me – increasing incrementally as I worked here alone on a solution; continuing to do so during the trip out there and through all the chaos we found when we dropped out of warp and I was afraid he'd been killed already, as well as throughout the bitter-sweet experience of meeting his sister's family and seeing Marsada without him. Through it all, a mass of scalding magma has been slowly building up inside of me. So I stop holding it in and vent it all over him, every last bit.

XxX

The noise of my mother's footsteps upstairs is a welcome distraction and brings me back to the present.

When she comes downstairs in her dressing gown to start the day, she doesn't seem all surprised to find me in her kitchen drinking her coffee. She hardly asks any questions until later in the day, after she's served me a wonderful home-cooked lunch and made me yet more coffee.

She listens patiently while I explain that I need to stay for a few days.

"So, have I got this right? When he left to go out there, he told you what he was going to do and asked you to help by working here from within?"

She looks to me for confirmation. I nod.

"And you did, _very_ successfully. So what is it that you're angry he didn't tell you?"

"That he'd _already_ been planning to leave for days."

"And if he'd told you earlier, would you have tried to stop him?"

"That isn't the point, Mom."

"I see." She looks at me for a moment over the thick rounded rim of her white coffee cup. "In retrospect, do you think he was right to go out there and intervene?"

"You can justify almost anything in retrospect. The point is that he kept it all from me. What does it say about our relationship, if he can do that?"

She sips her coffee, then quirks an eyebrow. "I hate to shatter any illusions you might have about what sort of a marriage your parents had, Katie, but your father certainly didn't always tell me everything."

"Well, I want the sort of… I want to be with someone who's honest with me. It's not something I'm prepared to compromise on."

I can feel her watching me, but she doesn't reply immediately. Her long fingers toy with her delicate silver brooch in the shape of a rose - an anniversary gift from my father.

"If memory serves me correctly, your father usually kept things from me when he was trying to protect me."

"This is different."

"Why? Because you think you're stronger? That you don't need protecting, but maybe I did?"

"No, Mom." I sigh out my frustration. "I didn't mean that."

She looks at me for a long moment, and she appears to choose her next words carefully.

"Don't punish him for being a man of strong convictions. You're a woman of strong convictions too."

"I'm not punishing him for anything."

"Chakotay is a good man, Katie. He's been good for you. I just don't want you to do anything hasty."

I know she means well, but I can't help feeling a little irritated. She seems determined to see things from Chakotay's point of view. She's _my_ mother, for God's sake.

She reaches across the table and presses one of her suntanned hands to my forearm.

"I, for one, am grateful that he tried to keep you from getting dragged into the dilemma he was facing. It could very easily have cost him his career, and yours as well if you'd disappeared out there when he did." Her tone is softer now. "And it seems to me it worked out pretty well in the end. In some ways, you both did what you do best."

I can't even begin to explain to her how far her interpretation of events diverges from the way I see things. So I summon up a smile and leave it there.

Xxx

Later, Phoebe calls. She called the apartment and Chakotay told her I was here. She insists I meet her for dinner in town.

The restaurant she's chosen is off the beaten track and really quite unusual. It's run by Bajorans, and has an arts and crafts-y sort of atmosphere. I rather like it. I've had time to order us some Bajoran wine and become very familiar with the extensive menu before Phoebe rushes in, late as usual. She's barely sat down when she starts.

"So you fought. And you walked out. Didn't he try to stop you?"

"No."

"So he agrees you need time apart?"

"No."

"I don't understand. Does he just let you get your own way all the time?"

I shake my head in dismay at her question. "Of course not."

"He didn't even _try_ to get you to stay?"

"He didn't know."

She raises an eyebrow in question.

I pause for a moment, wondering how best to put it. "I managed to get out without waking him up."

"Oh, _I see_ " _._ She smirks. Then she takes a large mouthful of wine. "So you got some first, _then_ you bailed out."

I purse my lips at her turn of phrase, although my disapproval has never been known to have any effect on her. "How do you know he wasn't sleeping on the couch?"

"Please." She pulls a face. When I say nothing more she goes on. "Okay then, well, was he? Sleeping on the couch?"

I avert my gaze. "No. But I didn't mean for it to happen."

She laughs ruefully. "Believe me, I never do either."

"No, I mean I'm not even sure he did. We were both pretty wound up."

There's a welcome interruption in the form of the waiter. I order immediately, since the menu and I are old friends. While Phoebe quizzes him for more details about half the dishes, I find my mind filling up with images of last night again. _We were pretty wound up_. That's one way of putting it, I guess…

_I grab a fistful of his sweatshirt and for a moment I'm not sure if I'm going to use it to shove him against the desk and push my way past him. But I find myself pulling. It's no surprise to either of us seconds later when his mouth attaches itself to my neck and he's mumbling words I can't really hear - which is probably a good thing, because I'm pretty sure he isn't celebrating my virtues. I know 'damned impossible' was in there somewhere. Next thing I know, he's halfway up my neck, and when I turn my head I find his warm mouth waiting. I kiss him deeply, insistently, demanding everything, holding nothing back. I feel something that's been winding itself up for weeks begin to uncoil inside and the sense of release is instant and powerful. I hold his face while I let his hands roam over all the places where I've so desperately missed their touch…_

"So, how _did_ it happen?" Phoebe's voice brings me back.

My cheeks burn. "It just… did."

"Come on, that's not good enough! I want a blow-by-blow account." She snorts into her wine.

I shake my head in despair.

"Sorry. But you know what I mean. I want details. Just how on earth did you end up sleeping with him and then leaving? I never thought _you'd_ do something like that!"

I scowl at her.

"So what happened?"

"At first he just let me talk," I quirk a brow, "or yell more like. And he hardly said a word. But then something I said made him snap and he was shouting too-"

"So he wasn't really apologising for anything."

"He said he was sorry he'd caused me pain. But he didn't sound sorry. He was furious. So was I." I dip my head and study the hand-embroidered tablecloth, slowly rolling the stem of my wine glass between finger and thumb. "I swear, I was that close to throwing his antique clock at him." I look up to see the surprise on my sister's face. I feel a smile lift one side of my mouth. "The damn thing doesn't keep time accurately anyway."

Phoebe splutters into laughter and I do too for a moment.

"He _really_ must have gotten under your skin if he can get you that riled."

I can't believe I'm laughing about this – although I'm sure my counsellor would say that laughter is good therapy for my pretty much permanently elevated stress levels. Maybe so. But I sure as hell wasn't laughing last night. And if Phoebe only knew quite how far under my skin he's gotten, she probably wouldn't joke about it. I'm under no illusions that I'm going to need help if I'm ever going to get him out.

"So how did it go from wanting to toss the antiques to wanting to-"

"Honestly, Phoebe, I'm not sure I can even explain it."

"Did you just jump him? Totally understandable if you did. Whatever he's done, he's still undeniably hot. I still can't believe you've chosen someone like him. It's such a departure! I used to despair at your taste in men."

She more than deserves the glare I turn on her. "What about Justin?"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember him very clearly," she replies more gently. "I was very young. And you didn't often bring him home."

"Yes, of course. I forget. Well, for your information he was a very handsome man."

"I'm sure he was. Mark's handsome. But I wasn't talking about _handsome_. I was talking about undeniably hot. And I can tell you that if you do ever decide it's really over for good – and I sincerely hope you don't because I love Chakotay and I think you two are great together – but if you do, then I have several single women friends who would jump at the chance of taking the good Captain for a test flight."

"Phoebe!"

"Sorry. Just saying. Anyway, back to Chuckles and how he ended up in your bed."

"Don't call him that! I wish I'd never told you about Q." I sigh and take a large mouthful of wine. "This is my _life_ , Phoebe. If you're not going to take it seriously, then I'll leave now and you can pick up the check."

"I'm sorry. Really. Please go on. How _did_ the two of you end up in bed?"

"We didn't. We were in the study actually. I'd gone in there to get away from him but he followed me and then- Things just got a little out of hand."

"A little?"

"One minute he was shouting, the next- I don't know, it might even have been me who- I'm sure we both knew it wouldn't solve anything. Anyway we stopped because there was a call. We heard them leaving a message. Then calling back again – it was enough for us to snap out of… You know."

"Out of the red mist of lust surrounding you?"

I roll my eyes.

"Sorry. Please do go on."

"Then we sat out on the balcony and talked, but it was so late his eyelids were drooping."

"And then what?"

"He said he'd go to his friend Jarem Kaz's house, or Mike Ayala's. But I thought that was stupid, so I told him to take the couch."

"And?"

"He did." I top up both our glasses. The wine is delicious. Bajorans obviously know a thing or two about how to make good wine.

"Go on."

"He slept for about an hour – probably fell unconscious more like – but I couldn't sleep. Then I could hear him tossing and turning. He's too tall for the couch. His feet hang off the end…"

"And?" She searches my face, then purses her lips, her expression one of disbelief. "You told him to come sleep in the bed with you, didn't you?"

I swallow as I feel the heat rising up across my chest. "I… I thought it'd be okay."

Her eyebrows disappear under her wispy auburn bangs. "You thought that you'd just hold each other and good sense would prevail? That you could just share the bed without sharing each other?"

I can't bring myself to reply or even nod acknowledgment.

She shakes her head in an infuriatingly patronising way. "Only you could think that, Kath. Anyway, I guess it's pretty clear that wasn't what happened."

I moisten my lips and swallow, then I reach for more wine.

Our starters arrive and I'm relieved that at least my sister has enough discretion not to carry on quizzing me in front of the waiter. She contents herself with flirting with him a little instead. When we're left to ourselves again she asks about Chakotay's movements for the next few weeks.

She frowns. "I thought he was due to head back out _this_ week?'

" _Voyager_ 's departure has been put back six days – some of the refits have run over schedule."

"Or he would have been shipping out again today?"

"Yes. That was what the call was about. We didn't listen to the message until after... We both thought he'd be leaving again in the morning, so I guess that was part of it."

I stare at the artistically presented crudités and dips on my plate and try to construct a logical narrative to make sense of the contradictions of last night.

"I wonder if what happened later was just all he could think to do. I mean it's one area where things have been pretty unproblematic for us."

Phoebe laughs, her hand coming up to cover her mouth and to stop her food escaping. "God, Kath, I just love how you put things sometimes! 'An area that's pretty unproblematic'? You mean you've had months of mind-blowingly fantastic sex with the man?"

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a terrible listener, Phoebe?"

"I'm sorry. It's just- You say it's all that he could think to do, but maybe it was a smart move. I mean, it seems to me that it worked… kind of, didn't it?"

"That makes it sound like he was manipulating me."

She grins. "I should hope so."

"God, Phoebe! Grow up!"

"Sorry, go on."

"It wasn't a case of him outmanoeuvring me. The first time, it was just as much- We were in each other's faces shouting and then…"

"You were still in each other's faces. Just without the shouting."

"And then later- I don't know…. It was the _last_ thing I should have allowed to happen. It was an error in judgment – unbelievably stupid of me, I know."

I sigh out a long breath. I _hate_ that I lost control of the situation – of myself. In spite of everything I feel for him, I know I should have denied myself that sort of intimacy until I was sure of whether we still have a future together.

Filling all my senses with him again was never going to be a good idea. Later, when holding each other morphed seamlessly into so much more, when I welcomed the delicious weight of him pressing down on me, or when he lifted me on top of him and I stretched my naked body against the length of him, it doesn't take a genius to realise that it was hardly likely to help me think straight. Any more than when I felt him shudder his pleasure and devotion as deep as humanly possible inside me, or heard him tell me again and again how much he loves me, how much he's missed me…

However good it may have felt, and however hard it is not to let my thoughts drift back there, my better judgment is still telling me that it was one spectacularly bad idea.

I feel my sister's eyes on me and realise I've been staring into my wine, completely distracted while she waits for me to remember she's here.

"Hey," she says gently. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about it, Kath. You've both been under tremendous stress. You're both passionate people, and you have a lot of complicated history together. Just because he's let you down doesn't mean you'll suddenly feel nothing for him. The more I think about it, it isn't actually all that surprising."

I quirk a brow. "Certainly was to me."

"It may not be the _smartest_ thing you've ever done, but I wonder if all it really means is that you're both human. You love each other. Give it time, you'll work things out somehow."

"That's just it. I'm not sure we will."

I suddenly see him lying there sleeping, unaware that I've gone. "I left him a note."

Her fork pauses on its way to her mouth. "Shouldn't you tell him face to face where he stands? I mean most men usually think things are okay again when things take _that_ sort of a turn. I know Chakotay isn't most men, but all the same…"

My fingertip follows a line of stitching on the tablecloth. "He knows things aren't okay, Phoebe."

When I look up she bites her lip, her expression serious now. "I know he's hurt you, but are you sure it's really over? I have to admit I thought you two would be together for… well, a long time."

"And I did too. But I can't just pretend this hasn't happened. It not as if it's the first time he's kept things from me. I told you how he went along with Tuvok's suggestion not to tell me about Mollah."

"And he was wrong. He should have overruled Tuvok – or whatever the 'Fleet phrase is – and he should have trusted you. But are you sure this is the same?" She shakes her head. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe this time he ended up between a rock and a hard place."

I stare at her. "So am I the rock or the hard place?"

"Oh, come on Kath, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"He told me that there are a couple of old Admirals who don't want me back out in space any time soon. He thought they might come down on me like a ton of bricks if I stepped out of line."

"So did that get you even more riled?"

"That part? No, not really. I mean, it's hardly news. I already had a pretty good idea that one of them can't stand me!"

My sister finishes her wine, pours herself another glass and tops mine up. "So what do you think was motivating him, when he chose to keep you out of what he was planning?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks I'm a mess and that I just couldn't have handled the brass being less than pleased with me."

"Or maybe he's just over-protective?" She cocks her head to one side. "And is that really such a _big thing_? Big enough for you to call it off between you? I guess it can make things complicated, because you work for the same organisation. But surely you can allow him a few screw-ups, if you'll pardon the pun, while he learns how to manage his feelings for you?"

It might not seem like a 'big thing' to her…

"I don't know, Kath. I'm not trying to play devil's advocate-"

Could have fooled me…

"I just wonder how much you're still getting over the whole coming back from the dead thing?" she presses on. "I mean, do you think it's changed you?"

"Is this your none-too-subtle way of telling me you think that it has?"

"I'm just asking you if _you_ think it has."

I meet her gaze. "I think it's made me stronger."

"And that's all?"

My eyebrows rise in surprise. "What are you trying to say, Phoebe?"

"Nothing, I-"

It's not like her to be lost for words, but actually I'm grateful. I'm pretty sure I'd rather not hear my sister's analysis of the ways in which I've changed since my return. I huff out a breath as I try to contain my frustration.

Concern clouds her expression. "I- I just really hope that you know what you're doing, that's all."

So do I.

[TBC]


	8. Chapter 8

When I get back to my mother's house after my dinner with Phoebe I find Chakotay has called. He's left me a personal message file. He sounds subdued. He says he understands if I need to take some time to clear my head. Then there's a pause.

" _Call me, please – night or day – whenever you want to talk."_

Despite my belief that I'm doing the right thing, I'm far from indifferent to hearing him sound so low. It's with a heavy heart that I try to settle between the cool crisp sheets of the bed I will have to myself for the next few days. I feel as if I'll never be warm again.

The next day, he calls me at my mother's early evening when he knows I'll be lingering at the office and he leaves another personal message file.

" _I'll call at this time every day. Then you can play the messages at a time that suits you. Or you can choose not to play them at all, if you want a complete break from all things Chakotay."_

At first his messages are short, but heartfelt. Then as the week progresses, he gets used to talking to me in this way and they become more conversational. He relates anecdotes about little things that happen during the mission briefings at HQ, and he tells me about time spent aboard _Voyager_ as the preparations get underway.

I find myself smiling when he tells me that Commander Torres spent an afternoon on _Voyager_ and left engineering in turmoil by casually pointing out that all of the new specification torque sensors had been fitted upside down. And I laugh as I listen to his account of what happened when he chose to use the captain's quarters to shower one evening after a particularly long and stressful day working on board. He chuckles as he describes walking out of the bathroom in nothing but a rather small towel to find himself face to face with a housekeeping crew who were just starting the late shift.

After a couple of days I start looking forward to his messages. He makes me laugh again when he tells me about his ship's counsellor, Hugh Cambridge. I know Chakotay has gotten used to him, but I still find him more than a little peculiar. Chakotay's message relates how he suspects Cambridge's sixth sense has told him that something's not quite right with his captain.

" _I'm beginning to wonder if he had Jarem stick me with a sub-dermal tracking device without me noticing during my routine physical the other day – because he keeps showing up everywhere I go!"_

My mother's thoughtful little gestures and her quiet care do a great deal to keep my spirits up, but, after three days in her house, I have to admit I'm struggling. I don't enjoy this sort of uncertainty.

I can't deny how much I miss Chakotay. One night, I play one of his messages twice, just to hear his voice filling up the space around me again. I miss having him to talk to and I miss his embrace. Maybe most of all I miss lying in his arms late at night and feeling the low rumble of his laughter pass through his rib cage to mine.

The closer we've become, the more I've learnt about what makes him tick, and the more I've seen of the wicked sense of humour that lurks behind the mischievous twinkle in his eye. I had glimpses of it before, but getting to know him with his shields down has been a revelation. I now know for certain what I always suspected. Captain Chakotay of the _USS Voyager_ secretly delights in all things absurd and ridiculous – I wouldn't mind betting it was half the reason he joined Starfleet in the first place, and it totally explains his interest in anthropology. Even though he may seem completely composed and serious in any given situation, I've discovered that part of his surprisingly chaotic mind is often occupied in quite unexpected and possibly unprofessional ways.

I can't deny that I desperately miss having him here to decompress with. God knows we need that sort of release in our line of work.

I also miss little things, like the way he comes up behind me and slips his arms around my waist. Or the way his strong hands expertly work out the day's stresses and strains from my shoulders if I position myself strategically in front of him when he's sitting on the sofa. If I put myself in range, at least one of his large hands usually gets to work on me on automatic pilot. He can put me right and review a system's report at the same time these days. I miss the pleasure-pain of his deep-tissue foot massages too. I'd made very good use of his talents these past few months.

My mother asks me about my day when I get home each evening, and we talk. I value our time together. But I desperately miss Chakotay's counsel. He's an excellent listener and I miss running my ideas by him and watching to see whether his brow will furrow or whether I'll detect one of his other meaningful micro-expressions. I miss his measured and careful suggestions and I miss disagreeing with him.

Then, on the fourth day, he calls me at the office instead. It seems his resolve to leave me in peace is wavering.

" _Have dinner with me. Please. Before the mission,"_ he asks. " _If you don't want to come to the apartment then we'll go out."_

I'm just about to go into a meeting when he calls, so I promise to call him back later. Then I find myself dithering about whether I should. In the end I do. I suggest we meet the night before the mission. That way I have as long as possible to collect my thoughts.

It's clear from the disappointment in his voice that he'd hoped I'd want to meet sooner, but he doesn't protest. He thanks me for letting him stay in the apartment. Then he says that if it's what I want, when he gets back from this next mission, he'll look for his own apartment. Suddenly there's a lump in my throat I can't swallow away, but I manage to tell him thank you, and that it might be wise. I tell him I'll think about it and I'll let him know soon.

Then Tom calls me at the office and invites me round for dinner. The fact that he doesn't mention Chakotay at all speaks volumes. Clearly Chakotay has said something to one of them – B'Elanna most likely. Although it's not impossible that Tom and Chakotay have spoken about our situation. As I consider this, I'm struck again by just how much has changed between Tom and Chakotay in the past few years. The transition from mutual mistrust to mutual respect has been a long and not particularly smooth one for these two men, but I'm so glad they made that journey. I know Chakotay was disappointed when his first request to have Tom as his second in command was turned down. I understood Command's reservations - one former rebel in charge was already a big enough risk for some of those old admirals. But ever since events conspired to put Tom on _Voyager_ 's bridge exactly when he was needed, I know that neither Tom nor Chakotay has looked back. I'm pleased too for B'Elanna's sake that they're finally friends. Not that they always see eye to eye; but I'd be the first to point out that independent thinking is a definite strength in a first officer.

When we fix a time for me to come over, for a fraction of a second I worry that Tom and B'Elanna might invite Chakotay over at the same time, but almost immediately I dismiss those fears.

And I'm right. There are no such contrivances. When I arrive, I'm treated to a few lively minutes with my delightful goddaughter and the scrumptious Michael, followed by a relaxed evening of good food and good company.

B'Elanna doesn't mention my situation with Chakotay at all, even when we're left alone for a few minutes while Tom reads Miral yet another bedtime story.

It seems like Tom is going to leave the topic untouched too. He offers to walk with me to the transporter station. But rather than taking his leave, he keeps me there by just standing where he is for a moment. My gut tells me he's about to say something to encourage me not to give up on his captain.

My instinct is correct. He tells me that he hopes Chakotay and I work things out.

I tell him it's complicated.

"Maybe so. But he's still the same man you fell in love with. And I happen to know he adores you."

I hold his gaze, unflinching. "I have to protect myself, Tom."

He nods, and looks at me expectantly.

I search for the right words. For a way to make him see my dilemma without going into too much detail.

"I don't mind telling you now that when I first returned from the Q, I found things… hard. And now, well, if there's going to be anyone special in my life then it has to be someone I can rely on, one hundred per cent of the time. Someone who isn't going to fly off and leave me at the drop of a hat."

Tom doesn't reply straight away, and for a moment I think he's going to leave it there.

"Actually, I think he did the right thing," he says eventually.

I stare at him as I search for a reply.

"He should have asked the rest of us to go too," he clarifies quickly, "but I don't think him going out there when he did was a mistake."

Resisting the instinct to look away, I swallow, raising my chin a fraction.

"And the Kathryn Janeway I know has never been the sort of woman who would long for a man who has nothing in his life but her. Chakotay is a complicated man, with a complicated history – as complicated as yours. But you and him? Your relationship? It matters."

Mercifully, I'm saved from having to reply by a young couple who appear from our left. They smile as they make their way past us into the transporter station. As soon as they're gone Tom continues.

"I was out there on _Voyager_ on that crazy mission, remember? I was there when Q sent Chakotay back to you, when by all rights he should have died. I think that means something. I think it means the two of you have a special connection. And, if you ask me – which I know you didn't, but I seem to be telling you anyway – I don't think he did leave you at the drop of a hat. I don't think he's ever really left you behind – even when you weren't together, even when you were dead. I think he'd be lost without you now. And I think you wouldn't be happy without him."

I smile, blinking back everything his words have made me feel. I press my hand to his arm. "You shouldn't be worrying about us, Tom."

"I'm not." He takes his leave with the appearance of confidence, leaning in to kiss my cheek. "Because you'll work it out."

XxX

Phoebe calls to check in the next day. Within seconds she asks whether I've seen Chakotay. I tell her I've agreed to have dinner with him on Friday. She says she's glad but she doesn't spend ages trying to persuade me of anything. This time her thoughts are succinct.

"You know I'm not one to mince my words, Kath. So I hope you'll think about what I'm going to say. Chakotay is the only man I've ever seen you with where I thought you seemed right together. When you died, he was the only one who felt it like I did. I can still remember that awful funeral. God, he was so angry. Like me, he just couldn't accept that you were gone."

I stifle a sigh and explain to her again that she doesn't need to try to convince me how much he loves me, but I can sense she's stopped listening. Then she switches tactic to tell me that on Friday I should wear the black dress I bought when I went shopping with her a couple of months back. It's the most figure-hugging and low-necked of everything in my wardrobe. Unsurprisingly, it's the only dress of mine Phoebe approves of. I don't bother to point out that I can't imagine that our choice of clothes will make the slightest bit of difference to what happens between us. Or that I probably would have chosen to wear that dress anyway, because it's elegant and simple at the same time as being wonderfully comfortable.

XxX

I pause just inside the door of the restaurant and immediately pick him out. He's standing at the bar waiting for me, sipping a mineral water. He looks more rested than he did a few days ago – but even from across the room I can see there's a tension sharpening the angles of his body. Then I take in the fact he's chosen to wear the blue-grey shirt he knows I like and I can't help but smile. I love the way the cut of the thin fabric falls, managing to accentuate both the breadth of his shoulders and the neatness of his trim waist.

I've been told that at one point during the fourteen months that he lived without me, he stopped eating properly, started drinking alone in his quarters, and became a gaunt shadow of the strong man I know. I still find that time painful to think about. When he eventually got himself back together, he took a renewed interest in his health and fitness. He began to exercise regularly again and built himself up stronger than before. I was _so_ relieved to hear that part of the story. It shocked and saddened me no end that one of the consequences of losing me was that he began to neglect himself.

These days, he's swapped boxing for running. He does occasionally visit the holodeck or the boxing club at HQ, but more for the training than to get stuck into a fight. He told me that now he's the wrong side of fifty, his remaining brain cells are too precious.

Sometimes when I look at him his leaner physique takes me back to our third year on _Voyager_ when we grew closer. The rapport that began to flourish between us then meant that for quite a while I was a lot less successful at repressing my awareness of the physical attractiveness of the man at my side.

I've only been standing here a few seconds when he looks up and his eyes are drawn to mine. He smiles. I make my way over to him. His hand finds the small of my back as he leans in to kiss my cheek and I can't help but breathe him in. He's wearing the cologne that was a casualty of my frustration a few weeks ago. Guess he must have decided to replicate some more – it smells good on him, although I can't honestly say he needs it.

The bartender knows us, and I'm immediately presented with a large glass of rosé. I feel Chakotay's hand linger on my back to guide me – more than a little unnecessarily – as I step up onto a bar stool. But as he moves in to stand next to me, I see him making a conscious effort not to allow his arm to rest where it usually would across the back of my chair.

I thank him for his daily messages and we fall into easy conversation for a few minutes while they finish preparing our table.

We both love this restaurant. If it wasn't for the knot in my stomach and for the extra centimetres Chakotay's restraint has put between us, this would feel like one of our regular evenings out. When we got back from the Full Circle mission we made a point of going out for dinner, just the two of us, once a week at least. We often ate here. The food is excellent and the atmosphere relaxed. And it was rare that we saw anyone from Starfleet in here. We're both a little too recognisable still to be able to enjoy a quiet dinner without feeling too many pairs of eyes on us in establishments that are popular with Starfleet personnel.

After a few minutes of safe conversation, he dips his head to drop his next words close to my ear. "I'm sorry, Kathryn, about the other night. About what happened... later." He looks up just enough to shoot me a sideways glance. "I know things didn't exactly go the way you planned. I certainly don't regret it, but I'm sorry if you do."

I keep my eyes on the peach-coloured liquid in my glass. "You don't have to apologise. I seem to remember it was me who grabbed your shirt…"

His breath is hot against my cheek as he leans in again. "Yes, well, later, I think I might have been a little more to blame. I shouldn't have taken you up on your offer."

The caress of his soft voice, low and intimate, does nothing to help me maintain my focus, so I quickly steer him onto other topics. I want to tell him about a decision I've made.

I know he'd been thriving with each new challenge - excelling in command of _Voyager._ But, for me, things have changed since our last mission and finding out about my counterpart and Mollah. I need respite – time to think about it all. And I need it soon.

"I've accepted a limited diplomatic role in the first stage of _Voyager_ 's next mission. Just for the first few days on DS9." The light in his eyes brightens. "Mostly because that's what had been planned for me – I was expected to express an interest," I qualify immediately.

He nods, clearly trying to contain his obvious relief that I'll be going out there too.

"No one has reprimanded me or shut any doors in my face yet for having forced the issue with Clavis, but I can sense a certain wariness in some of the dealings I've had with Command."

Concern instantly tightens his features.

"I'm not worried." I press my hand firmly to his forearm. "I just figure it's a good idea to go along with whatever's expected of me right now. But after that, I've decided I want to spend the next few months on Earth."

"Okay." He nods, making a visible effort to drop to yellow alert at least.

"Before all… this, I hadn't told you because I hadn't worked out what it'd mean for us. I know you'll be wandering the galaxy for a while yet."

"I hope so," he replies. "But I don't see that as a problem. We've been apart before. And I don't have to accept extended missions unless you chose to involve yourself."

I take a sip of my wine and consider this. If we do stay together, then he's right. As long as he didn't feel constrained by that self-imposed restriction on extended missions, it could work.

"I know you were hoping I'd take the option of being part of the whole mission," I go on. "But, right now, I'm not sure that's what I want. I mean, you've met one unlikely alien, you've met them all."

"Come on, Kathryn," he replies, a hint of a smile shaping his lips. "You know there's nothing quite like a good first contact mission."

"True. And you can't deny we've both been on several that were _nothing_ like a good first contact mission!"

He shrugs. "But it's only two weeks."

"Also true. But I'm not sure it's one I really need to be part of at all."

"Fair enough. You're exhausted. I'm sure nothing that's happened recently has helped. Coming back to Earth for a while sounds like a good idea, if it's what you want. But I'm also sure it wont be long before you're itching to be back on the bridge of a starship."

"You could be right, but for the next few months at least I plan to be here."

And I'm pretty sure that me wanting to stay on Earth will actually be well received all round. Over lunch with my contact in the President's office a couple of days ago, I was treated to a spectacular piece of irony that I will share with Chakotay one day soon, when his anxieties about my career have faded.

Apparently, some of the more conservative admirals have suggested that I should be kept on a short leash, because there's a danger I've been radicalised by association with Chakotay's sister. Conversely, they've expressed their approval of the restraint the good captain demonstrated by his two imaginary weeks spent in pursuit of spiritual harmony. It seems his deception has had the unexpected effect of winning them over – and these are the same men who argued against me when I pushed through his promotion in the first place!

XxX

Over dinner at our table in a quiet corner, we discuss the Gamma Quadrant species we'll be meeting and compare notes on the mission briefings. Then I turn the conversation to the next project I'm considering managing here on Earth. Our exchange of ideas flows easily and carries us through dinner.

It's not until our plates have been cleared away and we're both sipping a complimentary digestif that he turns the conversation back to the last night we spent together.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper the other night." He looks guilty, disappointed in himself.

"Actually, I'm not. It was more infuriating when you just let me rant."

He frowns.

I shrug. "You didn't interrupt – didn't contradict. You just let me get more and more carried away. I didn't want that. I wanted you to explain to me exactly what you'd been thinking – what you were feeling when Sekaya asked you to go out there." I shake my head as I remember how I felt. "I hated that you were so reckless with your own life. A life I care about passionately."

Then he surprises me with the hint of a chuckle. "I've spent the past decade feeling that way about you, Kathryn."

I quirk a brow. "Touché."

There's a smile in his eyes that warms something inside me as he speaks now.

"During all those years on _Voyager_ , I can't tell you how many times I came close to mutiny, just to keep you from rushing off somewhere and putting your life in danger for the good of the ship. A braver man would have tied you to your command chair on more than one occasion."

When he moistens his lips the look we share is enough to confirm that we are both well aware that a follow-up comment suggests itself to him. Out of respect for my reservations about where we stand right now, he chooses not to say it out loud, but I can't honestly say it makes much difference. In the years that we first served together on _Voyager_ , I used to read those thoughts in his eyes, but there was never any confirmation, so I could always tell myself I was projecting. Not anymore. Subsequent conversations mean that I now have an intimate knowledge of my former first officer's surprisingly active imagination when it comes to me and that command chair.

I have to tear my eyes away from his, because I know that if I let myself it'd be so easy to just lose myself in those warm dark depths and let him wrap me up in the all the love he feels for me. I can't deny that at this moment, the temptation to do just that is powerful. For the first time this evening I regret wearing this dress, because I feel the heat of a flush rising up across by chest.

I close my eyes for a split second to regroup. I refuse to be derailed.

"I still think you were unnecessarily reckless this time."

"I don't believe so." His tone is measured, controlled. "We were needed there. Things could easily have been very different."

"Things could have been very different if you'd asked me to help you right at the beginning," I throw back immediately.

He looks away, and I'm convinced he's probably as frustrated by the circular nature of this argument as I am. But then he surprises me.

"You're right. I should have told you when Sekaya first asked me to go out there. Even if you were under a hell of a lot of pressure. Even if we'd disagreed about whether I should go."

I nod. "You can't try to avoid situations where we might disagree," I can't help adding, even if it starts to sound like a lecture. "If this is going to work, we have to be strong enough together to weather those sorts of storms. You mustn't be afraid we'll break."

"I'm not. There'll always be times when we don't see eye to eye. It's inevitable, given who we are. I'm not afraid of that."

"But you were afraid to let me in."

His eyes flick to the side for a moment. "I- I guess it would be true to say I'm still getting used to having you to lean on."

"I know that." A heartfelt sigh escapes me. "Because it's _new_ for us. Maybe this would have been the first time that you could have really leaned on me – and you chose not to, or you didn't even realise that it _was_ a choice."

I pause for a moment. It's so important to me that he really thinks on what I've just said. I know I need to tread carefully here if I'm to get anything out of him, but I'm not content to just leave it.

"Did you keep me out of things because you were afraid that I wouldn't choose to go with you? That I'd choose my career?"

"No."

I fight frustration, pursing my lips. "I think you were," I risk. "I think you were afraid I wouldn't want to act against the Federation."

" _No_."

He looks at me, willing me to understand.

"No," he repeats more gently. "That's not it."

Then I see a truth in his eyes that I wasn't expecting.

"You were afraid that I'd feel _obliged?_ Afraid that I _would_ choose to go with you, at the expense of my career?"

"A career you love."

I pause a moment as the pieces fall into place. "So you took away the difficult choice."

"It wasn't like that."

"Oh, but I think it was." I sigh again, further saddened by this revelation.

"You were happy, I didn't want to be the one to take _that_ from you."

"And what do you think was _making_ me happy? My work?" I stare at him, incredulous.

"You're happiest when you're working."

"Oh, Chakotay." I look down, shaking my head. " _Of course_ , I love my work. But it wasn't the only thing making me happy."

As I search his achingly earnest face, I can see that in one crucial thing I've failed. Despite everything we've been through since I returned, and despite me telling him that I love him more than once, it seems I've still failed to communicate to him just how important he is to me. I take a deep breath. It might be coming too late, but he deserves to hear it, if he really didn't know.

"It was _you_ , us, being together finally. That was a _big part_ of what was making me happy. I thought you knew that? Or was I the only one here who thought things were going… well?"

"Of course not. And _of course_ I knew we were happy together. I don't think I've ever been happier, Kathryn."

The look of sheer devotion in his eyes at that moment is testament to the truth of his softly spoken words. He reaches for my hand and entwines his fingers with mine.

"But I'm not a fool. I know you need a lot more in your life than just me."

"You're right." I hold his gaze. "We both know our lives are always going to be about more than each other."

He nods.

"But that doesn't mean that this isn't… _vitally_ important to me. I don't want you to protect me from what's difficult in your life. Not now, not ever. I don't need protection. I need your _trust_ , or this…" From within the tangle of our joined hands I squeeze his fingers. "What we have… it won't survive."

He swallows and I watch as his expression changes, a shadow of fear creeping into his eyes – well-founded fear, as it happens, because he knows me. He knows what I'm capable of giving up if I think I should.

I gently reclaim my hand and force myself to tell him things he may not want to hear. "Even though it's obvious we've moved on together in a lot of ways, in one fundamental way you're still behaving like my first officer."

"I certainly don't feel like your first officer anymore."

"Maybe not, but when it comes to the crunch, you're still behaving like you did for all those years on _Voyager_ when made yourself into my gatekeeper. I know what you did, made sure news of dissatisfaction in the ranks – and a whole host of other problems, I don't mind betting - stopped at your desk. You were a wonderful first officer, and I'll always be grateful for that. But I don't need a first officer anymore. I need… a partner."

He sighs heavily. "I realise I've made mistakes, Kathryn. But I do want to share my life, all of it, with you. You have to believe that."

"I believe that you _want_ to."

"But you're questioning whether I know how."

"Yes. I suppose I am."

"I'm sorry if I've made you doubt that."

I remember telling Tuvok last time we met that Chakotay and I are a work in progress. Oh how true. But this isn't _all_ about Chakotay's lack of trust in me – Tom reminded me of that.

"I owe you an apology too. I'm sorry I doubted you when you first told me about all of it. I'll admit, I thought you were overreacting. I made enquiries. I was reassured. And I trusted them when I should have had more faith in your judgment."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Kathryn."

"I do. So let me. I'm sorry for that part."

He holds my gaze for beat and I read in his eyes that there's something he wants to say. I sit back and wait rather than saying anything else. I've learnt to be patient sometimes. Eventually, he follows my unspoken cue.

"When we got back to this quadrant after our years on _Voyager_ and I decided to stay in Starfleet, I'd hoped that the two worlds that have a claim over me wouldn't collide again like they did when I resigned the first time. But I guess that wasn't to be. And now, well…" He trails off, seemingly unable to finish.

"And I'd hoped that the Federation would never make those sorts of mistakes again," I tell him.

"I did too. And what you did makes that a little less likely. You forced them to see that decision was unworthy of them. I admire what you did, Kathryn, and I'm so grateful I didn't have to resign. I intend to play my part at keeping the Federation on track too, if I can."

He takes my hand again.

"What I was trying to say just now is that I want you to be part of both my worlds. If you still want to, then one day soon I'd like to take you to my home colony."

As I look into his eyes, I feel myself sag as my bruised heart thuds heavily in my chest. A few weeks ago it would have made me _so_ happy to hear him say that, but now it just amplifies the disquiet inside me.

XxX

It makes sense, I tell myself. I need a few more things – we're close by – so it makes sense to pick them up now.

Chakotay goes straight into the study to check the messages while I cast my eyes around the living area.

He's had six days at the apartment without me. It's very tidy. Barely any evidence he's been here, only a few telltale signs. A book left lying on the table, a pile of padds in the study, his old leather jacket over the back of a dining chair, fresh fruit on the kitchen counter…

This apartment only ever started to feel like home when he moved in to share it with me after the Full Circle mission. Before that, it was a space in a convenient location with potential and a spectacular view, but that was all really.

A few minutes later when I go into the bedroom to collect some things, I realise this is a mistake. All it takes is one look at the bed. I immediately abort my attempt to select what I need and slip out of there to take refuge in the bathroom.

I know I need to leave. I stand in front of the mirror, in the same spot where I first realised how angry I was with him the morning after he left. I stand and just breathe for a moment.

As I look at my reflection I decide that the past few weeks have aged me. Hardly surprising – given how little I've slept. I look worn out, haggard, despite the souvenir of the precious Marsadan sun still colouring my cheeks and the wonders this dress does for my figure. I wonder if I'll ever look fresh and rested again.

Then I realise that while I've been staring at myself he's followed me in. I look down into the basin as I feel him displace the air behind me. I don't want to see him in the mirror. I hold myself still, barely breathing while my mind continues to whirr.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as my body becomes acutely aware of his. I feel his hand come to rest lightly on my hip, and I feel his warm breath against my cheek.

"Kathryn, I'm so sorry. For everything."

His other hand gently moulds itself around my other hip.

"I do want to let you in. I promise I'll try harder." He pauses for a beat. I hear and feel him sigh. "I need you."

I look up to meet his eyes in the mirror. "Do you? I just don't know, Chakotay. You shut me out so easily."

"I need you. And I love you so much. I have to believe you still feel something for me, even though I've made one hell of a mess of this."

The heat of his skin as his cheek brushes against mine sends a shiver the length of my spine. I could walk out of here, but I don't. I could turn, but I don't.

"I know we've been apart a lot longer than this before, but I've missed you so badly these past few days," he says, low.

I dip my head and close my eyes, hands braced on the washstand.

His words fall close to my ear. "I miss hearing you crash about the kitchen when you can't find something. I miss your ice-cold toes pressing against my legs when you come to bed late. I miss finding the sleeves of my sweaters rolled up. I miss hearing you laugh. I miss _making_ you laugh. I miss trying to jump you in the shower and you pushing me off and telling me I'm an insatiable beast. I miss how it feels to hold you as you fall asleep. I miss your pointy fingers waking me up when I snore. I miss the underhand tactics you use to get me out of bed to fetch you coffee. I miss all of it. I miss _you_."

Then I feel his lips press gently to my neck and a shudder passes through me. I find myself leaning back into him and the second I do his left hand snakes around my waist. He steps into me and oh-so gently shifts my centre of gravity further, until my back is flush against him, trapping me between him and the washstand.

"I need you, Kathryn," he mumbles in between the open-mouthed kisses he's planting on my neck. Oh God it feels so good. I don't want to have to give this up. Ever.

"Chakotay-"

I break off when I realise I have no idea where my sentence is going.

Suddenly the shrill piping of the comm. system pierces the charged bubble of energy around us as it registers someone calling.

We both know it could be about the mission tomorrow. He sighs against my skin as I feel the muscles in his arm around my waist tense up.

I press the back of my head into him as I look up. "We should get that," I husk unevenly at his bowed reflection.

Head still dipped, he waits a beat, then he steps back just enough to release me, but no more. One of us has to answer the call, so I grasp as many pieces of my spinning mind as I can, push back against the oh-so powerful pull of the force between us and propel myself out, leaving him standing there in front of the mirror.

[TBC]


	9. Chapter 9

"Chakotay." My voice wavers a fraction as it travels the distance between us. "It's for you."

The middle-aged Bajoran man on the screen in front of me has an elaborate earring, part of which is the same shape as a shamrock. I smile at him politely as we wait. Then Chakotay appears in the doorway, his eyes still holding the heat of the closeness we shared just now.

"It's Mr Pelin Karn," I relay.

Chakotay's brow furrows, and even through the mix of emotions still lingering on his face I can tell instantly that this isn't a name he recognises.

"Chakotay here." I feel him pass behind me, then I move out to let him stand in front of the workstation.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I stay where I am, watching as he takes in the image on the screen. His features have already arranged themselves into a mask of professional neutrality, but there's still nothing in his expression to suggest he knows this man.

I slip out of the study and leave him to his call.

On the terrace, I force myself to sit down at the table and be still. I take several controlled Vulcan breaths and let the warm evening breeze wash over me, determined to make the most of these moments alone to think.

Now that I understand better his motivation for trying to keep me out of his plans to intervene on Marsada, I'm less angry at him. It saddens me that he could believe I'd only have involved myself out of a sense of obligation – that I might have resented him one day for dragging me into something that could have ruined my career. I thought he understood me better – but at least knowing this was part of his motivation has helped me understand _him_ better. I understand better how he sees me, and what he still doesn't really see about me. And I've been reminded that he has an overprotective streak the size of the Milky Way when it comes to those he loves, but it's hard to stay mad at him for that.

I'm still furious with the universe for finding a way to test us so soon. If we'd been left to ourselves for longer, then maybe he would have understood better how important the life we've been building together is to me. I can't deny I've lived and breathed Starfleet for a long time, but I want my existence to be about more than just work. I have no intention of becoming one of those centenarian-plus Admirals who spends all-day-every-day working, only to drop dead on the job, croaking out orders with her last breath.

Part of me is questioning whether I could ever really disentangle my life from Chakotay's. Tom was right when he said we have a fundamental connection now. I feel it still. And we're bound together by so much more than just our feelings for one another.

And is it really any wonder Chakotay has made mistakes? It's not as if there's a wealth of information out there to draw on about how to conduct an intimate relationship with someone who recently returned from the dead…

I realise that his voice is no longer drifting out periodically from the study, so I go back inside. I find him in the living room, sitting on the sofa, hunched forwards with his forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly in front of him.

He looks as if someone has died.

Doing my best to shut out my own feelings, I try to focus on the needs of the man in front of me.

Silently, I lift two glasses down from the cupboard. Something tells me we're going to need a drink. The clink of the bottleneck nudging the inside of the first glass rouses him. He looks up as I pour us both a generous shot of Scotch. For a split second it's almost as if he's surprised to see me, as if he'd forgotten I was here, which is pretty damn strange. His face is drained of some of its usual colour.

I place his glass on the coffee table and sit down next to him, cradling my own drink, and I wait.

"Mr Pelin is a lawyer."

That certainly wasn't what I was expecting him to say and I imagine the surprise registers on my face – although I have no real idea what it was I was expecting.

"He had some news."

"Sounds ominous." My mind takes an immediate inventory of everyone Chakotay knows on Bajor.

"You remember I told you about Roberto, one of my original crew on the _Val Jean_?"

"Yes. You said he was killed at Tevlik."

"He was. The Bajoran lawyer was calling to say that Roberto's father has just died suddenly."

So I was right. Someone has died.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Chakotay."

The colour still hasn't returned to his usually warm features. I pause a moment. Even though this is undoubtedly sad, it seems to have hit him harder than I'd have expected. I don't remember him ever talking about Roberto's father.

"Were you and he close?"

"No. Not close. He settled on Bajor."

"Were they Bajoran?"

He shakes his head. "Human. But he'd worked on Bajor. He was a concert pianist. He took his grandson there just before the massacre."

Makes sense. Many Bajorans were sympathetic to the plight of the Maquis even before the massacre. And his mention of the grandson sparks a memory for me, from our first few weeks back in the Alpha Quadrant after _Voyager_ 's unexpected return the first time.

"I remember they were part of the group Sveta was taking to visit the monument on Tevlik's moon when we met up with her on our way back."

"Yes. That was the first time I was introduced to Gabriel, Roberto and Maiara's son."

"And after that?"

"I visited them on Bajor, a few months later - I haven't seen them since. That was three years ago."

"Was the lawyer giving you the date of the funeral?" I ask, still more than a little puzzled.

"Among other things."

Odd that he wouldn't just send a communiqué. Chakotay's eyes are still downcast and the look on his face makes me uneasy. Clearly there is more. He reaches for his glass, takes a swig from the Scotch, then places it slowly and deliberately back on the table.

"What other things, Chakotay?" I prompt gently.

"He wasn't only calling about the funeral."

Then he clasps his hands tightly together again in front of him. Something isn't right here. He inhales deeply before he turns to look at me.

"He was calling to say that in Roberto's father's affairs, they found instructions left by Roberto and Maiara in the event of their deaths. It seems they named three other people to take over guardianship of Gabriel, should Roberto's father die before the child reached adulthood. The first two were a couple." He pauses a beat. "They also died at Tevlik."

"And the third?"

As he holds my gaze I realise I know what's coming.

"The third person they named was me."

I blink at him, still making sense of this when he goes on.

"I am expected to leave for Bajor immediately. Since his grandfather died, the child's schoolteacher has taken charge of him. They've contacted Sveta too. She's on her way there now. Gabriel knows her."

A moment passes in silence.

"Is there no immediate family?" I manage to ask.

"Apparently not."

"And his father never _told_ you any of this when you visited?"

"No." His brow furrows. "If he knew about it, I have no idea why he didn't tell me. He was always a little… eccentric. I guess he was planning on being around himself." His gaze strays to the side as he reflects on this. "He was fit and healthy. And he was only sixty-nine."

"And now you're the child's guardian," I repeat, as perhaps saying it again will force it to make more sense.

His eyes flick quickly back to mine. "The lawyer stressed that there's obviously no expectation I'll decide Gabriel should live with me." Then he moistens his lips. "But Roberto and Maiara's instructions leave me legally responsible for organising everything significant about his life, including who looks after him."

"And you've only met the child twice?"

"Yes. I didn't even know Roberto and Maiara _had_ a child until we got those first letters from home. Sveta wrote that Maiara had a baby just a few months before the massacre and that Maiara and Roberto sent the child – _baby_ – away from the base with Roberto's father a few days before the attack. Then Roberto and Maiara were both killed."

"And the grandfather has cared for him ever since?"

"Yes." He pauses a beat. "The last time I saw Gabriel he was five."

"So now he must be… seven, eight years old?"

"He's eight."

"Eight," I repeat, for no obvious reason.

"I doubt he would remember me," Chakotay adds quietly.

"No."

I swallow, but it fails to alleviate the sudden dryness of my throat.

We look at each other and it's as if we're suspended in time for a moment – a feeling I still recall quite clearly as it happens.

Chakotay scrubs his hand across his chin and downs the rest of his Scotch while I balance precariously on a tower of vertiginous questions that I can already see he is in no fit state to answer.

Then he stands suddenly and offers me coffee. He's halfway to the kitchen to make it before I've had a chance to reply. I fight the urge to pick up my things and flee right now.

While he busies himself with the drinks, I walk back out onto the terrace, but I can't make myself sit this time.

I can't imagine why his friends would have chosen to add _his_ name to this list. When the _Val Jean_ disappeared, surely they must have thought it was very unlikely he'd ever return?

A few minutes later when Chakotay appears on the terrace carrying our hot drinks, I can see immediately that his focus is back with me. His eyes have lost the distracted look of a moment ago, but, if anything, the anxiety in them has increased. He's as tense as hell. I imagine whatever strategy he might have had for dealing with things between us right now has been blown out of the water.

I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder whether he'll share it with me.

He moves in close beside me and we both cradle our drinks as we look out into the darkness. I ask him about the child's mother, Maiara.

"She was the daughter of one my mother's cousins."

"So did Roberto travel to your home colony with you?"

"No. In the years after I left, there were a few others who left too. Maiara was one of them. She came to stay with me the first time she came to Earth. At that time, I was a lieutenant on the _Gettysburg_ and Roberto was an ensign. We were friends. I introduced them. She and Roberto fell in love, and, after the Cardassian attack on our homeworld, he followed her into the Maquis."

"So Gabriel is…"

"Family. Yes. He's a child of my people. Or at least that's what my father would say."

The couple naming Chakotay as guardian suddenly starts to make a little more sense. Perhaps it was done more as a symbolic gesture rather than a practical measure, since they probably hadn't really expected to need a _fourth_ guardian. But surely there must be some other living relatives?

As I hold his gaze he anticipates my next question.

"Maiara's family were killed by the Cardassians."

"I'm so sorry, Chakotay."

There's another moment of silence where we're both lost in thought.

"What about the rest of Roberto's family?"

"His parents were separated. Neither of them was exactly pleased when their only son – the Starfleet officer – resigned his commission, joined the Maquis and married a woman from a backward colony," he relates without a hint of bitterness. "His father came around eventually. As far as I know, Roberto's mother never did accept his choices. She was in Starfleet."

"I see. Will you contact her? In case she has a change of heart now that her grandson is alone?"

"I looked her up just now."

"And?"

"She died in the Dominion war."

I sigh out a breath, shaking my head. "So many lives cut short… And this poor child, Chakotay. It's just so terribly sad..."

I turn back to Chakotay and we lock eyes. I wonder what all this means for him. For us-

"I told the lawyer I'd go down to Bajor as soon as I can after we've docked at DS9." His gaze turns to the dark liquid in his cup. I can see the cogs turning in his mind as he thinks forward to how he can make this work.

I nod. "The talks aren't scheduled to start until the day after we dock, so you should be able to find some time to devote to all this."

"Yes. I will." He looks up.

The magnitude of what's happening here suddenly hits me properly for the first time. I take another mouthful of coffee. And another.

"Sveta will be there tomorrow," Chakotay adds quietly. "She's known Gabriel since he was born. She's stayed with them several times over the years. There was a two-year gap in contact while she was in prison, but at least she has a relationship with the boy."

I acknowledge this with another nod. I honestly don't know what words of reassurance I can offer him. Clearly he will need to work out what to do with this new responsibility.

"It's actually a stroke of luck that _Voyager_ is leaving for DS9 tomorrow," he remarks, thinking out loud, I suspect.

I can't help thinking that _Voyager_ leaving tomorrow for DS9 is the _only_ lucky thing about any of this.

He suddenly turns to face me again. "There are two other messages that came in while we were out. I'm sorry, Kathryn. I should have mentioned them earlier. One about Nancy Conlon… and Harry. Then someone left another message later. For you, I mean. It was Admiral Akaar's office."

He's more than a little distracted right now and I need to listen to these messages, so I put my cup down, and give his shoulder a light squeeze in support. His hand comes up to cover mine instinctively and he squeezes back, the gesture so familiar. He offers me a weak smile, then he follows me back inside and sits down on the sofa while I head for the comm. terminal in the study.

It's a strain to focus on work right now, with my mind suddenly full of thoughts of the tragic situation of this little boy I've never met, but it's necessary. Before I read my message I read the communiqué about Nancy Conlon. The unhappy news is that she's been rushed back to Medical. Harry's request for compassionate leave has been approved. He won't be part of this mission. And B'Elanna will be back on _Voyager_ as chief engineer.

Admiral Akaar's aide informs me that I'm requested to report to his office at 07.00 hrs before the mission for an additional meeting. I have no idea what the agenda will be. Before he resigned, perhaps Montgomery managed to persuade Akaar of the wisdom of requiring me to keep separate quarters from _Voyager_ 's captain. Well, if that's all it is, at least this time it suits me to accommodate their ridiculousness. Then an uneasy feeling settles in my gut. I hope that _is_ all that awaits me. I would hate for Chakotay's fears about the consequences of my intervention with Clavis and Marsada to prove justified. I huff out a breath of frustration as I close the file. It's probably just more last minute instructions about some aspect of the talks with the new Gamma Quadrant species.

From the doorway to the study I address the top of Chakotay's head. "I need to collect some things."

He doesn't respond.

"Chakotay."

He looks up. "I'm sorry, Kathryn. I-" he falters. "What did you say?"

"I'm going to collect some things."

He stands and moves quickly to my side. "We still need to talk."

"Look, you've got a lot on your mind. And we both need to be at our best in the morning, so-"

"Your message from Admiral Akaar's office? Nothing bad I hope?"

"No," I reassure him quickly. "Just an early meeting tomorrow before we leave."

"Look, Kathryn, I-" he breaks off. "I know this complicates things but- Stay. Please. We'll talk-"

"We'll find time to talk tomorrow." I press my hand to his arm. "I really need to go now. Can't have me falling asleep on Akaar tomorrow, can we?"

I take my leave of him as quickly as I can. It's not easy. He's reluctant to let me go. He envelops me in his embrace, holding me close a long while, his lips pressed against my temple, before I manage to finally extract myself.

XxX

I'm glad he wants to talk, but right now I desperately want to be by myself. I wish I had words of wisdom to offer him appropriate to this situation, but I don't. I imagine Sekaya would tell him the spirits must have guided Maiara so she and her husband named someone who would survive the end of the Maquis – making it Chakotay's destiny to take responsibility for this traumatised child. But I'm not sure the universe I live in is quite so orderly...

And I'm left even more off balance than before.

I know I told him we'd talk tomorrow, but the truth is that opportunities will be limited. Because I left it to the last minute to decide about this mission and because of stresses of the past few weeks, I have several lengthy briefings to read en route. And with a ship to run and his off-duty hours spent on Bajor making arrangements for this child – whatever that will mean – and possibly attending a funeral, Chakotay will be very busy too. I can already see he will be pulled every which way by this. It's in his nature to respond to need. I already know he will want to do whatever he can. I just don't know what that will mean.

Or where it leaves us while he works it out.

In limbo, I suppose. _Suspended._

There's that word again.

[TBC]


	10. Chapter 10

Captain's Quarters: _Voyager_

I must have read this same line five times now and I still can't remember the names of the Joseffan representatives. And I'm good with names.

I sit back in the chair and inhale deeply, to try to force out the frustration constantly pricking at the edge of my consciousness. Pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, I massage my scalp with my fingertips, releasing sparks of electricity each time they compress a nerve end. As I drain the last of my tea, I admit defeat. I give up trying to stop my mind from wandering away from tomorrow's meetings.

I wonder where Kathryn is right now. I almost ask the computer, but stop short. I hope she'll call by before she turns in. She's been elusive since we left Earth. After I got the news about Maiara and Roberto's son, she pulled back from me again. Hardly surprising. I don't imagine I was making much sense after that. I can barely remember anything I said to her. I imagine some of the possible consequences of my sudden new responsibility scare the hell out of her.

She'd already made it clear she still needed time. But I realised a while ago that whenever she takes time alone to think about _anything_ to do with our personal lives, it still makes me nervous. A throw back to the years of advance and retreat on _Voyager_ the first time around, I guess. I'm hoping that 'time to think' isn't going to mean that she decides whether we have a future without involving me in the discussion. She may have hauled me over the coals for leaving her out of things recently, but, mixed metaphors notwithstanding, the woman is a law unto herself when it comes to making up the rules as she goes along. Not that I'll be pointing that out right now. I've never known anyone who can turn me upside down and make me forget where my head should be the way she can. And I wouldn't give it up for anything.

I'll be damned if I'm just going to sit back and wait though. That's why I told her the other night how much I've missed her. I didn't live all that time without her, have her return to me against all the odds – not to mention the laws of nature – only to have her call things off at the first sizeable hurdle.

If either of us had been forced out of Starfleet because of our involvement in the Marsadan affair, it would have been a different matter. Then, the wall she'd have put up might have been too tall even for me to scale. But now? I could already see over this one – before I got distracted by recent events, that is.

Even though Akaar left Kathryn's accommodation arrangements for this mission to her discretion, she chose to keep us apart. I knew she'd insist the Paris-Torres family have the VIP suite again, so I was obviously hoping to have her in here with me. But she took the refurbished first officer's quarters. It was a disappointment, but it wasn't exactly a surprise.

When we've been together, we've spoken about work, but little else. There was a lot to cover. Neither of us is as prepared as we would have been if our personal lives hadn't been so eventful recently. Since we left Spacedock, I've been trying as hard as I can not to let my own personal issues distract me from ship's priorities while I'm on duty. It hasn't been easy. It's amazing I've managed to read any of this really, since my mind keeps wandering back to Maiara and Roberto's eight-year-old son. I'm itching to get down to Bajor – I wish I could have gone tonight. I need to find whoever knows Gabriel best. I need advice as fast as possible about where and with whom he'd be happiest for the immediate future. All I know is that he's staying with his teacher. I don't know if the boy even _likes_ his teacher.

I don't know much about him at all – Gabriel Eduardo Cortez, aged eight. His middle name chosen to honour his grandfather. Small, quiet boy, with his mother's smile and eyes that followed me around the room. Although I didn't see many smiles from him. He was pretty shy at five – the kid spent most of the time behind his grandfather's legs. I gave him a tiny replica of _Voyager_. Just a little bigger than the one Joe Carey almost finished making for his boys. Eduardo's house was small and comfortable and he seemed to have made a good life there from the little I saw. I only stayed an hour or so. It was a busy time for me, so I'm struggling to recall much more.

I doubt anyone is going to advise me that it would be in the child's best interest to pluck him out of the environment he knows and have him fly off on a starship with a distant relative he doesn't remember. With a man who isn't even sure if he has a permanent address right now. But not knowing any of the details of his life means that, whenever I try to think about it, my mind's doomed to revisit the same barren landscape of circular thoughts as it thirsts for more information. It's driving me crazy. I keep wondering what the boy thinks will happen to him now. Then something someone once said about Bajoran orphanages keeps coming back around to taunt me. I need to get down there to banish any fears like that he may have as soon as possible.

"Still hard at it?"

I look up and turn my head towards her voice, just as I feel her hands come to rest on my shoulders.

"You didn't hear me come in."

Her familiar husk is a sweet sound to me right now. My body has been starved of contact with hers so much that I realise too late that I'm leaning back into her casual touch like a hungry cat.

"No." I offer her a smile. "But I can't say that's much of a surprise. Even though _Voyager_ arrived at DS9 over two hours ago, I haven't gotten over the feeling that my head is still somewhere just outside San Francisco."

She gives me the lopsided smile I haven't seen much of recently. "You're not the only one. Did your meditation last night help?"

"A little," I lie. "Although knowing this mission shouldn't be too demanding is what's helping most."

"You're not still worried it'll be too light on activity for the crew then?"

"Right now I'm not sure this ship's captain could cope with much more. I'm hoping the crew will decide to make the most of the lull. Maybe some of them will be happy just to have some predictable routines to follow for a change."

"I'm sure they will." She gives my shoulders a light squeeze before her hands drop away. "A little uneventful diplomacy sounds perfect to me too."

"Are you up to speed on our new friends yet?" I ask her, swivelling the chair round to face her in the room.

"Of course. It wouldn't do for the admiral on board to know less than the captain. You?"

"I've gone over the briefings again. I'd already read up on the two species who aren't really first contact – given they've actually been known to the Federation for several months already. But I still need to read the notes on the Joseffans again – what little there is."

"You weren't kidding when you said there isn't that much to read!" she marvels.

"No. They could have put it all into one sentence really. It seems all we know about them is that they are humanoid, they're a peaceful people with a rich culture, a ten-year life span, and significant telepathic abilities."

Kathryn wags a finger at me. "Made me realise why they wanted us for this mission though."

"Yes. I wonder if they'll resemble the Ocampans physically too."

"We might meet a Kes look-a-like." She smiles slightly, a hint of playfulness in her expression and her voice.

"We might." I return the smile and match her tone. "Although, I guess it's just as likely they'll look like the Kazon."

"True." She surprises me by moving to stand beside my chair and weaving the fingers of one hand into my hair, setting the nerves in my scalp alight again, even though she isn't applying any pressure. "Do you remember their hair?"

My eyes find hers. "How could I forget?"

"I never did figure out if they _glued_ all those things into it because it was a convenient place to store things, you know? Like a few nice seashells and couple of spare dusters – or if it _grew_ that way all on it's own."

As I chuckle, I can feel my face cracking into a grin. "My money's on the storage-space theory. They were a nomadic people, after all."

I'm so grateful that we're back to a place where we can joke with one another again. I don't think I've laughed once in the past forty-eight hours.

"Tea?" She punctuates her question by patting my shoulder again before she turns to head for the replicator.

"Please."

I watch her as she rocks back a little on her heels, poised before the hatch. It's a welcome development that she seems more relaxed around me. I'm glad she's making herself at home in here again. Guess she really needed that time on her own. The familiar pressure of her hands a moment ago was welcome too. She's used touch to keep me where she wants me and to reassure me for years. I guess this is no different.

I wish I felt reassured enough to be able to point out the irony of her pulling away when I tried to get her to stay and talk the other night though. She was so mad at me for leaving her out of the loop the last time. But I think I'll save that observation for easier times. Even though things are less tense, I still feel like I'm on probation around her right now.

I turn back to the workstation and close the files I was working on while she carries our drinks to the coffee table.

"Have you thought any more about Akaar's proposal?" I ask as I settle next to her on the sofa. Maybe she's come to a decision and that's the reason she's feeling better.

"I have." She twines her fingers together where they rest in her lap. "I'm going to say yes. I think I'd like very much to play a small part in moulding some of the Starfleet Officers of the future."

"That's good news, Kathryn." I reach for her hand reflexively. "I'm glad."

"Do you think I'd be any good at it?"

"Any good? I think you'd _excel_ at a job like that. You already have all the skills you'd need to nurture those idealistic young cadets and their fragile egos. A few weeks into the first semester and Admiral Janeway will be everyone's favourite tutor."

She shoots me a sideways glance. "Flatterer."

"No." I shake my head. "I just know most of the competition."

"Hmm."

"Would you have to give up on the other project you were going after?"

"I don't think so. I think I could do both." Her hand slips away from mine and she gestures in front of her with her forefinger. "The work at the Academy is just a little part-time teaching on the First Contact course and on Delta Quadrant studies, with a few lectures at Command School on fostering crew cohesion on deep space assignments. I think I have something to say on all of those topics."

"You have _plenty_ to say."

She quirks a brow, one side of her mouth tugging upwards.

"So you could still take on Picard's proposal?"

"I like to think I'd manage both. I'd be loath to miss out on the chance of developing Jean Luc's idea."

I sit back a little further and stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankles. It feels good to stretch – I've been sitting down for too long this evening. "I can't see how they can refuse you. I mean, there can't be anyone better qualified than you and Picard to produce the Starfleet officer's guide to the Q."

She smiles again, then presses her hand to my thigh. "Have _you_ gotten any further in your thinking? About how you're going to handle things on Bajor tomorrow?" she asks carefully.

"Not really. Although I had a message from Sveta. She got there yesterday. She said she's worried Gabriel is sick."

"That's troubling." She tilts her face towards me, concerned. "And it isn't just a reaction to the loss?"

"Sveta doesn't think so. I asked Jarem and he's agreed to come down with me tomorrow. I also spoke to Hugh."

"Any use?"

I know that tone. My ship's counsellor is a taste she's yet to acquire.

"He made a lot of the same points that you and I had already touched on. Keep the child in familiar surroundings in the short term, identify key adults in his life that he trusts – all those sorts of things."

She nods. "Sounds sensible."

"I sent a message back to Sveta to ask if she could stay with him at least until the end of our mission. She said yes. The teacher offered for her to stay there. We're in luck that the teacher has room."

"Very much, on a teacher's salary. Unless of course the Bajorans reward educators better than other cultures."

"Not as far as I know. And Hugh's going to arrange for a Bajoran counsellor he knows who works on the station to go down and spend the next two weeks assessing how Gabriel's doing. He'll report back to me after this mission."

Kathryn nods her approval again. "Sounds like you've done as much as you can from here."

"Hugh offered to go down and talk to the child himself, but I'm holding off on that for now."

The look she gives me then is more than enough to let me know what she thinks of that idea. I search her face for a moment before I ask my next question, trying to gauge whether I'll get the answer I want. Her eyes are clear and her expression open and expectant.

"Will you come down with me tomorrow? I've arranged to leave first thing, so we'll be back in good time for the first meeting."

She holds my gaze but I don't miss the flicker of hesitation that darkens the blue of her eyes for a split second. She reaches for my hand and clasps it. "Of course."

I watch her read the relief I fail to keep out of my eyes. Turning my hand over, I slide my fingers around the side of her hand so our palms press together.

"Thanks," I tell her quietly. "That means a lot."

At least I hope it does.

[TBC]


	11. Chapter 11

Right forearm resting across the lintel of the window, left hand perched on his hip, Chakotay stands looking out, framed in the bright sunlight coming in from the teacher's backyard.

He's doing a passable impression of calm and collected, although, as I watch, his hand leaves his hip for a moment to tug on the collar of the dress uniform jacket. I don't think the damn thing has ever fitted him comfortably around the neck; he really should get it adjusted. Shame we needed to be ready for the first meeting the minute we dock again at the station, or we could have come down in civilian dress. Chakotay was in uniform the last time he came here though, so it probably isn't a bad thing he is again today. Perhaps it may help jog the child's memory.

We were greeted at the door by the boy's teacher, Faren Pallra. She's a lot older than I was expecting – she must be in her mid-sixties at least. She showed us into the living room of her home and promptly disappeared into the kitchen to make us some jumja tea. Low ceilinged and rather dark, this room is simply furnished with a table and four chairs, and a carved wooden bench across the far wall. Earthy reds, oranges and browns give the décor a traditional Bajoran feel, and the numerous religious icons displayed prominently in the hall and in here mean no one could doubt Faren Pallra's devotion to the Bajoran Prophets.

We've been told Sveta is with Gabriel in the room he's been staying in, and that they'll be out in a moment. Jarem and I accepted the teacher's invitation to take a seat at the wooden table, but Chakotay is clearly still too tense to sit.

I'm more than a little on edge myself. I wonder how the little boy will be fairing and what he'll make of all of us, and also, I can't pretend that the prospect of seeing Sveta again so soon fills me with joy. The one meeting we'd been averaging a year to date was already plenty for me. I'm still cursing the fact that out of all Chakotay's friends, it just had to be this abrasive woman who has a relationship with the child. Because after our last meeting, well, let's just say it'd be hard for things between us to get much worse. Although I suppose that's the sort of thing you should never say…

Then the woman herself appears in the doorway. The child hangs back behind her slightly, holding her hand. Chakotay turns away from the window immediately to face them. To me, the boy looks small for eight years old, but seven years with Naomi means I'm often way off with human children now, not that I was any sort of expert before. His almond-shaped eyes are light brown, and thick, dark brown hair falls just below the jaw of his square-ish face. Olive skinned, high cheek-boned and slight-framed, he's all elbows and knees, with shoes that make his feet look too big for his slender legs. He doesn't let go of Sveta's hand as she leads him in.

Chakotay takes a small step forward and Sveta nods a perfunctory greeting to Jarem and to me, then she leans in and greets Chakotay with a kiss to each cheek. She steps back, still holding the boy's hand as she looks down at him.

"Gabriel, this is Chakotay." She looks up at Chakotay and the little boy's gaze follows.

"Hello Gabriel," Chakotay says softly. "I'm so sorry about your grandfather."

Gabriel blinks several times and says nothing.

I don't know if it's because of the boy's silence or because Chakotay is unsure exactly how to begin, but he stumbles a little over the rest of the introductions. I had wondered how he would introduce a strange doctor without scaring the child and I'd also wondered what words he'd choose to introduce me.

Sveta surprises me by coming to Chakotay's rescue. As she sits down on the low bench, settling the boy next to her, she says Jarem is here to see if he can help find a way to stop Gabriel feeling sick, but she avoids the word doctor. Then she tells him simply that Kathryn helps Chakotay with everything that's important to him. I like that explanation.

Chakotay shoots her a grateful smile, reining in a hand that was on its way to his ear. Then he crouches down so he's almost kneeling in front of the boy.

"You were only little when we met before. But, maybe you still have the model starship called _Voyager_ that I gave you? Sveta tells me you like starships."

There's a definite spark of recognition in the child's eyes. He nods quickly. "I collect them. I've got _Voyager_. That was my first one. I've got eleven."

"Maybe you'll show them to me one day. I'd like that."

"Okay." Gabriel's soft brown eyes move to the pips on Chakotay's collar.

"Do you know who I am, Gabriel?" Chakotay asks slowly.

The child nods. "You're captain of _Voyager_." His eyes flick to the woman at his side. "Sveta told me."

"That's right. I'm in Starfleet, like your father was once."

Chakotay waits for Gabriel to connect with his gaze again. "Your mother was part of my family. I knew her well. And your father was my friend for a long time. It seems they wanted to make sure we'd get to know each other too one day."

"I can't remember my parents." It's clear from the child's delivery that he's said these words many times before.

"Well, that's okay," Chakotay reassures. "I remember them well enough for two. When we know each other a little better I'll tell you some stories about them."

"Okay."

Gabriel bites on his bottom lip and his eyes stray to Chakotay's brow. It's clear there's something on his mind. A few seconds pass in silence, while Chakotay waits him out.

For some reason the sight of Chakotay crouching there patiently in front of this small boy triggers an unexpectedly deep emotion in me. My eyes fill and my insides flood with a sudden warmth. Instinctively, I clasp my hands tightly together in front of me on the table and inhale deeply.

Eventually, Chakotay's patience is rewarded.

"You look like the men in one of my pictures," Gabriel says.

Chakotay glances quickly at Sveta. She quirks a brow and smiles.

"I'm guessing you have some pictures of your mother's family then," Chakotay says to the child.

"Why don't you fetch them, Gabe?" Sveta asks. "I think Chakotay would like to see."

The boy hesitates for a split second only, then slips forward off the bench to head out towards the bedroom. Sveta gestures for Chakotay to sit down on the bench, leaving a space between the two of them for when the child returns.

Jarem clears his throat and shifts on his chair. I'd almost forgotten he was there on the far side of the table, as he's been so still and quiet. I catch his eye and he smiles at me. With Gabriel's temporary departure the level of tension in the room drops considerably, and I realise I'd been terribly afraid for Chakotay that the boy would be unwilling to talk to him – or to anyone else, for that matter.

"I see what you mean," Chakotay says to Sveta, frowning. "He looks pale."

As Chakotay is speaking, Gabriel's teacher walks back in with a tray of drinks that she sets down on the table.

"We've brought Jarem here to assess Gabriel's health," Chakotay tells her, motioning towards the Trill. "He's my chief medical officer."

"The doctor for our community is quite capable of treating humans, I assure you Captain Chakotay."

"I'm sure he is, ma'am. But I'd like Jarem to assess Gabriel all the same. It won't be invasive. He'll simply scan him with a medical tricorder."

"As you wish." The teacher nods.

Gabriel comes back in as she says this, carrying a storage container about thirty centimetres square. Without hesitation he hops back up onto the bench into the only space that has been strategically left available. He lifts the lid and carefully stores it underneath the box itself.

"So, which men do I remind you of?" Chakotay motions towards the pictures inside.

Gabriel looks to Sveta for reassurance. When she nods encouragingly, his small nimble fingers leaf purposefully through the papers in the box and pick out a faded image of a group of people – that's all I can make out from where I'm sitting. Then he lays the picture he'd searched for on top of the other contents of the box.

He points at the image. "Them." Then he looks back at Chakotay's forehead.

Chakotay smiles. "Well, it's not surprising you think I look like them." He tilts his head forward slightly to better accommodate the little boy's curiosity. "I wear this mark to honour my father, just as these men wore it to honour their ancestors."

The little boy looks long and hard at the inked lines on Chakotay's brow and his fingers twitch a little, loosening their grip on the container.

When Gabriel's gaze falls back to the picture, Chakotay points to one of the men in the back row of the group. "This man is Kitchi, my grandfather on my mother's side. And those are his brothers." He pauses and his voice drops in pitch as he points at another of the men. "And this brother _here_ , his name is Hassun. He's your great-grandfather. And this is his son, he's your-"

"He's my other grandpa. I know. Grandpa told me. But Grandpa doesn't know their names."

"Well, I'm afraid I don't remember all of them, and I should, because family is important to our tribe and our names are gifts to be treasured. But I do remember your grandfather's name; it was Ichante. He was my mother's cousin. I remember him because at his wedding party, I thought that he was the tallest man I'd ever seen. I must have been about your age at the time."

I can see Chakotay taking a surreptitious glance to see what else Gabriel has in his box. I can also see he isn't going to touch anything unless he's invited. But then, with slow careful movements, the child slides the lid back out from underneath and replaces it on top to firmly close the box.

Chakotay shifts his weight back on the bench a little, resting one arm along the top behind the child before he speaks. "Do you know why I'm here, Gabriel?"

Gabriel looks at him and nods. "You have to say where I live now."

"That's right. Your parents chose me to be your guardian now your grandpa is dead. One of the things I have to decide is where you live now. So that I can be sure I get it right, I'm going to need you to tell someone what _you_ want. Because that's what matters most. You don't have to tell _me_ if you don't want to. You can tell Mrs Faren, or you can tell Sveta."

The boy fidgets a little on the bench. I sip the Bajoran tea and instantly crave coffee, and I wonder if he took in what Chakotay just said.

"The Prophets have brought Captain Chakotay to you, Gabriel," his teacher remarks pointedly. "You must listen carefully to what he has to say."

The little boy's eyes stay downcast, his fingers clamped tightly around the storage container in his lap again.

"Jarem is here because Sveta is worried you might be sick," Chakotay goes on.

"Gabriel is often sickly," the teacher states gently. "Even before his grandfather's _pagh_ left us to join the Prophets, I observed at school that the child didn't have much of an appetite. He rarely drinks his milk. He doesn't have a strong constitution."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Chakotay replies, and, even though his face betrays nothing, I can't help but wonder how he feels about the teacher's use of the euphemisms of her religion in this context.

"I've arranged for a man called Toran Ren to come and see you later today," he tells Gabriel. "He's a counsellor. That's someone who's a good listener."

The boy looks up at him again. "I know what a counsellor is. Adami Los had one when his dad went to prison."

The teacher frowns, apparently uncomfortable with the mention of this topic in front of her guests. "I'm sure Gabriel will talk to the counsellor, Captain. And I will happily speak to him about the child's school life. Gabriel has an aptitude for mathematics. He could be a great mathematician one day."

The praise doesn't seem to register with the boy.

"You like to look at the stars and to learn about space travel too, is that not so, Gabe?" Sveta prompts.

The child's eyes flick up to meet hers and he nods.

"A lot of Terran children who like the stars are envious of people here," I tell him. "Because you're living next to the only stable wormhole in the Quadrant."

Gabriel glances at me for the first time and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, affording me the briefest of glimpses into an active and intelligent mind. I notice Mrs Faren frown, about to speak, when the little boy looks quickly back to Chakotay.

"Grandpa helps me study the wormhole," he volunteers.

"We have also talked about Gabriel's interest in the celestial temple at school, haven't we, Gabriel?"

"Yes, Mrs Faren," he intones dutifully.

"It has been a little obsessive at times," she tells the adults, pleasantly enough. "But the child certainly has an enquiring mind, which is to be praised."

Sveta and Chakotay share a look I can't interpret.

Then Gabriel slides off the bench and looks to Sveta for permission to leave the room. She nods and he immediately disappears into the bedroom with his storage container. Sveta follows at a short distance behind, telling Chakotay she'll bring him back in a little while, as we've still got to get Jarem near enough to scan him.

"Did Gabriel's grandfather play a part in the spiritual life of your community, Mrs Faren?" I ask our hostess, wondering about the choice of school for his grandson. Surely there must be secular schools somewhere on Bajor?

She turns to address me. "No, Admiral. But he was respectful of our culture, just as we are respectful of yours. He played at many of our religious festivals. His skill at playing his beautiful Terran cello made him a sought-after performer."

She turns to Chakotay.

"I'm told the child's mother and yourself are both from the same deeply spiritual culture, Captain. I'm sure she would approve of the fact that Gabriel is receiving a spiritual education."

The light in Chakotay's eyes betrays to me that the answer to her question might not be quite what the teacher would expect. He nods diplomatically. "Maiara was a spiritual person, yes. When she moved away from our home colony, however, she chose not to continue practising the spiritual rituals of our tribe."

"And you, Captain? Do you still continue your spiritual practice?" Her manner is such that I wonder whether Chakotay feels like he's eight years old himself and back at his village school. If ever a woman could make a grown man feel that way, it might well be Faren Pallra.

"Yes. I observe some of our spiritual rituals, but certainly not all."

Our hostess nods and smiles pleasantly again, apparently content with this answer.

Then Sveta and Gabriel reappear.

Jarem hands Chakotay the medical tricorder to show to Gabriel, and Chakotay explains to the child that Jarem is going to scan him. He tells him that he hopes to be able to attend his grandfather's funeral tomorrow, and that he's sorry we can't stay longer now. Sveta tells the child that they can choose whether to go home tonight or whether to say with Mrs Faren. I don't catch the boy's whispered reply.

I figure the fewer unfamiliar adults in the room the better while Jarem is at work, so I accept Mrs Faren's offer of seeing the accommodation she can offer Gabriel and Sveta if they choose to continue staying with her, and we leave the room. As she shows me around, she tells me that she hopes arrangements can be made that keep Gabriel in her class at the school, as stability is what is most important for him now. I assure her that what's best for the child will be Chakotay's starting point when he makes any decisions.

XxX

Voyager

B'Elanna calls to me to hold the 'lift.

"How's it going with the Joseffans, Admiral?" she asks as she strides in and comes to stand shoulder to shoulder with me.

"Very good, thank you, B'Elanna. They are utterly charming."

"Tom said they even look a little like the Ocampans."

"They do. Haven't seen any Kes look-a-likes yet, but they remind me of her a great deal. And I think they'll make a wonderful addition to the Federation one day. Where are you off to?"

"I'm going to collect Miral and Michael from the nanny. Tom just called to say we've been invited to join their meeting – all of us."

"I see." My face probably registers my surprise. "And you're sure you're happy to take the children up there? Please don't feel obliged, B'Elanna."

"Don't worry. It's fine. And anyway, if Miral ever got wind of the fact I turned down an invitation to join in with Daddy's meeting, well, let's just say it wouldn't be pretty."

"We know that the Pairtish and the Delaydon both function as multi-generational units in everything they do, so, I imagine they're keen to meet the _all_ the members of the _Voyager_ family, even the very youngest."

"That's pretty much what Tom said."

"But shouldn't it all be winding up by now?"

"Didn't sound that way over the comm."

"I see. And do you know how Tom and Chakotay have coped with the sheer numbers of them? I must have seen over twenty people as they made their way past earlier."

"Tom said the look on Chakotay's face was priceless when they all trouped out of that shuttle. They had to set out two extra rows of chairs behind the meeting table."

"Troupe is certainly the word! They reminded me of a circus or a wedding party with all the children, the nursing mothers, the old men and women in hoverchairs… It certainly was a sight to see. And I could have sworn I saw some sort of animal trot past too! A pretty sizeable one at that – some sort of goat perhaps?"

"I guess I'm about to find out."

The 'lift arrives at deck three and the doors open.

"Well, give Tom and Chakotay my best and I'll look forward to meeting them all myself later at the evening reception. Have fun, B'Elanna."

"Thanks. And…" she hesitates a split second, placing her hand on the sensor to pause the 'lift. "How did it go down on Bajor, if you don't mind me asking? How's Roberto and Maiara's son doing?"

"Of course I don't mind. The little boy is obviously still in shock from the loss, but it was encouraging. My gut feeling was that he'll be okay in the long run."

"I'm glad."

She releases the doors and I take my leave.

XxX

The water is the perfect temperature now. I've been soaking for a good five minutes and the heat has already forced out some of the stowaway tension in my neck and shoulders. I smile to myself, wondering what _Voyager_ 's captain will make of the fact that I'm lying in a sea of fragrant bubbles in the recently upgraded and pleasingly spacious bathtub that is now his.

The delightful smell is courtesy of the large bag of Marsadan bathing accompaniments I received as a parting gift from Sekaya. All made from natural products of course, and all so good you have to frequently remind yourself they aren't actually edible. This one is full of some essential oils that smell like a mixture of honey, lemon or lime and something more floral I don't have words for. Whatever's in it, it's simply divine.

It certainly has been an eventful day. When I first lowered myself into the tub and lay down, I found my mind going back again to the moment earlier today when I realised that I don't want to give up on the future Chakotay and I could have together. It's actually a _huge_ relief to feel sure again. Before he got the news about Gabriel, I had been far from certain what to do, but I know I was leaning towards risking my heart again. Despite the strange circumstances, today made me feel even more sure that whatever the future holds, I want us to face it together.

I'm going to tell him straight away that I don't need any more time alone to think. It feels important to do so as soon as possible. And, when we're finally alone again later this evening, I have every intention of leaving him in no doubt as to just how much I've missed him these past few weeks.

As I add a little more hot water and another drop of one of the Marsadan bath oils for good measure, I hear my combadge beeping – it's on top of the pile of clothes on the chair next to the tub, still attached to my dress uniform. I curse quietly and force my limbs back into motion to lean over and activate it.

"Janeway here."

" _We have a call for you, from Earth, Ma'am_ ," Chakotay's rather nervous replacement operations officer informs me. _"It's Phoebe Janeway. Shall I patch it through to your quarters?"_

"No, thank you, Lieutenant. I'll take it via the comm, audio only."

" _Very good, ma'am."_ He closes the line from the bridge and I hear the clicks that tell me we're connected now. "Go ahead, Phoebe. I can hear you. We're on audio only."

" _The connection's pretty clear –_ better than the last time _,"_ she adds dramatically.

"It should be, now we're docked at DS9."

" _Although you do sound like you're at the bottom of a well."_

"That'll be because I'm in the bathtub."

" _Alone?"_

"Alone."

" _Just like to know who I'm talking to. I wouldn't want to say anything I shouldn't now, would I?"_

"Heaven forbid."

" _So how did it go with the little boy?"_

"Not too bad, I'd say. All things considered."

" _Oh Kath, I'm so glad to hear that. I've been thinking about you all day."_ I hear a noise that sounds suspiciously like a wine bottle being opened. _"And have I got this right – his father was in Starfleet and then the Maquis, and his mother was the daughter of one of Chakotay's cousins?"_

"No – his mother was the daughter of one of Chakotay's _mother_ 's cousins."

" _So that makes him… Chakotay's second cousin once, no, twice removed?"_

I lift my leg out of the hot water and shake it to flick the excess bubbles off, resting my calf along the side of the tub to cool off. I'm overheating a little.

"You tell me, Phoebe. I've never gotten any of those terms for distant relatives quite straight. Chakotay says in their tribe all his mother's cousins were just 'uncle' or 'aunt', and all their children were just 'cousin'. I don't think they make the same distinctions we do. In fact, he said that most of his parent's friends were 'aunt' or 'uncle' too!"

" _So tell me about the little boy. What's he like?"_

"He's… well, Gabriel is eight, quiet, intelligent looking and rather small. He seems to be holding up surprisingly well, considering he's just lost the only adult he remembers parenting him."

" _And what will happen now?"_ she asks, and this time I most definitely hear the distinctive glug of liquid being poured out of a bottle. _"Are you any closer to knowing what Chakotay will decide to do?"_

"Not really. But we did find out why the child's been sick. And it's something that's easy to fix, thank goodness. He's lactose intolerant and the teacher hadn't realised. She'd been trying to build him up by feeding him dishes full of the Bajoran equivalent of whole milk. Apparently Gabriel didn't know, but as his grandfather had always let him pick and choose, he had more or less avoided dairy produce until now."

" _That must be a relief!"_

"Yes. A grieving child is hard enough to cater for, let alone a sick grieving child."

" _And what about his future?"_

"Nothing has been decided yet. The teacher is convinced he should stay in the community he's grown up in. But now that I've seen Sveta with him, I wonder whether Chakotay may ask her if she'd be prepared to take him on long term. She may not be the obvious choice – given her somewhat nomadic lifestyle – but, so far, Chakotay hasn't managed to find any other adults that the child knows well. And I wonder if she might be prepared to move to Bajor. She's spent time there before and I'm wondering whether she could continue to do whatever it is she does from there."

" _Really_?"

Phoebe doesn't sound convinced, and I can't blame her. If I hadn't seen the enigmatic Russian with the little boy myself, I would be equally sceptical.

" _You said he was staying with a teacher. Would she be willing to have him permanently?"_

"I don't know. She seemed pleasant enough, but she's already in her sixties and it didn't seem to me like she was particularly close to Gabriel."

" _So it really might be Sveta."_ Phoebe pauses a moment. _"Can't say I've thought of her as the maternal type, from the little I know of her."_

"Me neither. But it's clear she really cares for the boy."

" _What about adoption? If the advice is that it's best to keep him in the environment he knows, then surely that might be a better option?"_

"My gut tells me Chakotay wouldn't see it that way. But I suppose it may depend on what this Bajoran counsellor advises."

" _And how do you feel about the whole thing now? About Chakotay being responsible for this little boy from now on – until he's eighteen."_

I let my head fall back against the recessed headrest at the end of the tub and lie back, looking at the new dual-shower head fitted into the softly gleaming ivory tiles covering the ceiling.

"I'll admit I did find the whole thing a little overwhelming to start with. This afternoon was reassuring though. I suspect the Bajoran counsellor will also advise that it'd be best for Gabriel to remain on Bajor. I had been worried that all Chakotay's time and energy – and mine too if we were still together – would suddenly be taken up by having to learn how to parent a traumatised child, at the same time as trying to work things out between us and manage our workloads. I'm not saying I wouldn't have been willing to try, but I can't pretend that I didn't find the prospect of all that more than a little daunting."

" _I'm not surprised, Kath! It's one thing if you decide to have a child with someone – your own child – but to suddenly inherit someone else's eight-year-old! In such tragic circumstances too, someone else's potentially damaged eight-year-old – well, that could easily be the kiss of death for any relationship. I've never understood those people who think having a child can hold a relationship that's in difficulties together. More likely to stretch it to breaking point, if you ask me."_

"Yes, well, I think it might have been too much change too soon for us."

" _I'm so glad you're feeling better about things. And does this mean it's back on between you? I do hope so."_

I look around me and smile. "Well, I'm lying in his bathtub right now, the bubbles are fast disappearing, and he's due back any minute, so even an unassuming man like Chakotay may get the hint that I've had a change of heart about needing time apart."

" _That's great news! But I hope you won't give the poor man a heart attack by surprising him in there!"_

"Oh, I think he can take it." I laugh out my reply.

" _Well, I'll get off this line now, so you've got time to scrub up and make yourself gorgeous!"_

We say our farewells and she closes the channel.

Speaking to Phoebe and saying the words out-loud for the first time has left me impatient to see Chakotay. His meeting should have wound up over an hour ago.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

" _What can I do for you, Admiral?"_

"You're running late."

" _I am. And you have the Pairtish and the Delaydon to thank for that. One minute I was chairing a meeting and the next it felt like I was master of ceremonies at an improvisation evening. And everyone was expected to get up and take a turn."_

"So, what did you do when it came round to yours?"

" _I did what all good captains do."_

"What? Danced a sailor's jig?"

" _I delegated."_

"Coward."

" _Mr Paris did us proud. Some twentieth-century classic called 'My Way.' I'll have to get him to reprise it for you later."_

"I'll look forward to it. Anyway, are you on your way back now?"

" _I am. Just stepping off the 'lift actually. My sonic shower is calling to me."_

I smile and look up again at the shiny new fittings in the ceiling for the dual shower. "Yes. It is. Get yourself here soon, because I'd like to talk to you. I've come to a decision."

" _Okay. Where's here?"_ He sounds cautiously optimistic, presumably because of the tone of my last statement.

"Captain's quarters. Get yourself here on the double, no dawdling."

" _Yes, Ma'am."_

I smile to myself and breathe in the sweet fragrance that's still diffusing into the air from my bathwater. Then, only a few seconds later, I hear the swish of the doors.

"In here," I call.

"Tom tells me you said you had a pretty good time with the Joseffan representatives too." His voice precedes him, then he steps over the threshold into the bathroom just as I brace myself on the sides of the tub and push myself up to standing. "He said you hadn't come across any Kes look-a…" The end of his sentence falls away.

He takes a measured step towards me, our eyes meet, the tub beneath my feet bringing me up to his height. I feel every inch of the path his dark eyes take as they rake over my body. He smiles slowly, a sly grin that is enough to make my nipples instantly stand to attention.

"I noticed last night that you seemed to be feeling better about things between us," he tells me, his voice dropping in pitch. "And you said just now that you've come to a decision, but maybe you should still clarify – to avoid misunderstandings." He pauses, the smile still playing on his full lips. "Is this a condemned man's last meal? Or am I forgiven?"

I smile back, wide. "You're forgiven."

"That's very good to hear, Kathryn."

"I'd been lying here thinking."

"You should do it more often if this is the result."

"Perhaps I should."

Still holding my gaze, he grins again and starts pulling at the fastenings of his dress uniform jacket. "And would you like to share those thoughts?"

"I was thinking about how I told you I want us to share our lives and our problems. And then, the next time you tried, I pulled away. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to see how unfair that was."

"Well, I'm very glad you want to let me back in." He drops the jacket on top of the pile of my clothes. "And I'd like to add that I'm very much in favour of this new manner of delivery for decisions relating to our personal relationship." He kicks off his shoes. "So, now I think it's only right that we should make up. Properly."

"Pass me the towel?" I nod towards the rack.

"Towel?" He frowns, toeing off his socks.

"We need to get ready for this evening, for the reception." I gesticulate towards the pile of my clothes.

His hands move to perch on his hips. "So you were expecting you could rise out of this soapy water like a goddess, tell me I'm forgiven, stand there in front of me covered in bubbles just waiting to be popped," he leans in and blows a puff of air at my right nipple, popping several bubbles, "and I'd do what exactly? Just stand here and listen as you move swiftly on to talk about diplomacy?"

"Well, when you put it like that…"

His turtleneck comes off over his head in one practised manoeuver, swiftly followed by his regulation vest. "Sometimes I wonder whether you know me at all, Kathryn," he says as his head reappears.

"But we still have to be down there in less than an hour!"

He looks up and his fingers pause, about to undo his pants. "Your point?"

"We don't have time!"

"You're talking to a man who can get his uniform back on – all the right way round, I might add – in less than a minute. And I happen to know you've always been a few seconds faster."

He's stripped down to nothing but his black boxers, and, as I watch, the boxers go the same way as the rest of his clothes. Suddenly, he's there in front of me naked, in all his glory – a solid block of bronzed muscles – his masculine scent making my nostrils flare in appreciation. I decide that making up properly sounds like rather a good idea after all.

He steps into the bathtub to stand behind me with his body flush against my back and his lips grazing my ear. "And you should leave your hair piled up like that for tonight. It's a great look."

I feel his hands slide down through the soapsuds still on my arms and then round to rest on my stomach. I look down at my breasts, still covered in bubbly residue, and lean my head back onto his shoulder. "I should rinse off, then we take this to the bedroom."

He looks up, then calls for the computer to activate the water shower above us.

"We can rinse you off. But we're good right here."

As the stream of warm water cascades down onto me, his hands slide up to slowly massage the soapsuds off my breasts. Suddenly speechless with pleasure, I twist my head to look up and meet his eyes – those warm dark eyes with a subtle hint of irreverence, visible only to those who know him well – eyes that are almost black now as he looks down at me.

I feel his lips graze my ear again. "You smell like dessert."

"We have a three-course meal to eat in less than an hour. Maybe you should save your appetite?" I manage to get out, even though one of his large hands has already slid down past my belly.

"I can make room."

"I thought you'd say that."

"You have no idea what you do to me, woman," he growls.

I press myself shamelessly back against him, eliciting a pleasing groan, and I reach up with my left hand to pull his mouth down to mine.

"Oh, but I think I do."

[TBC]


	12. Chapter 12

"Chakotay!" Gabriel calls, turning in his chair to look for him.

"He'll be back in a moment," I say reassuringly.

The little boy glances quickly up at me, then points at the box on the table in front of us. "Look!"

His light brown eyes open wide, utterly captivated by the sight of the swirling blue mouth of the wormhole as it spirals into existence. I find myself equally entranced by the look of pure delight on his face; it's the first time I've seen him smile.

"It's working!"

I smile back at him, wide. "I should hope so!"

"Can I do it again?"

"Do it as many times as you like, Gabriel. It's yours."

It was my idea to bring him this gift, and it was a good one. Last night, Miral told me all about how Daddy had bought her her very own wormhole on the station Promenade, and, even before I saw the small interactive hologram in its sleek black box, I knew we needed to get one for Gabriel. Right now, it's successfully distracting him from dwelling on the fact that his grandfather's funeral is due to start in less than an hour.

Yesterday at the reception, Chakotay explained to our guests that he would be absent for a few hours. They proved to be remarkably understanding, so we're both attending. They expressed surprise that he wouldn't need longer. To the Pairtish and the Delaydon – these two lively species that harmoniously share a single world – family is everything, and funerals can last several weeks.

As the last of the midnight blue swirls fades to black, I look down to see Gabriel's small fingers twitch, impatient to try it yet again, no doubt. Mrs Faren seemed unwilling to let him operate it himself – I can't imagine why, as it's not as if he can break it. I was happy to show him. I could see he'd pick it up quickly. Standing over him as he kneels up on the chair, I marvel at the beauty of his flawless olive skin, then I find my eyes drawn to his impossibly long dark eyelashes. As I watch him now, I can also see why Mrs Faren felt the urge to feed him up. There's hardly anything of him. He and Sveta are still staying here at his teacher's house, because when he was asked yesterday if he wanted to go home, he said no.

Almost as soon as we arrived, the enigmatic Russian took Chakotay aside. They've been outside in the small backyard for the past few minutes, having what looks to me like an increasingly animated conversation. Instinctively, I found myself moving to obscure Gabriel's line of sight to the window, although he's so enthralled with the hologram it probably isn't necessary.

The sound of footsteps coming in from outside causes me to look up just as Sveta reappears, her expression as unreadable to me as ever. Dressed all in black today, Sveta looks even taller and even slimmer than usual, and her white hair stands out even more dramatically. Chakotay is still standing outside, hands on his hips, head bowed. I gesture for Sveta to take my place at the table and she seems happy enough to oblige, so I slip out to join Chakotay.

"What was that all about?"

Looking up, he scrubs a hand across his decidedly flushed-looking face, exhaling deeply before he speaks. "Sveta wants me to make arrangements immediately for Gabriel to travel to Earth – as soon as this mission's over. She seems to have made up her mind about what's best for him."

" _Already_?"

"Already. I've made it clear I need to wait to hear what Toran Ren has to say."

"Surely she can see it isn't reasonable to expect you to make up your mind right now?"

He quirks an eyebrow, resigned. "Sveta isn't always a reasonable woman."

I seem to remember he said that about me once… I bite back several less than helpful responses and I press my hand to his bicep. "Well, I'm guessing you know how to handle her."

We turn as one to look in through the low window. Sveta smiles at Gabriel as he talks away to her, his face animated and all of his attention still held by the hologram.

"I told her I'm not deciding anything today," Chakotay adds, as we continue to watch them. "She said I can wait for my official report if I want, but it won't change anything."

I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at that. "Is she suggesting that she take charge of him, then?"

Out of the corner of my eye I see Chakotay's brow furrow for an instant. I feel him glance at me and I turn to meet his gaze. For the briefest of moments I see a flash of something akin to confusion in his eyes, but it's gone so fast that I wonder whether I imagined it, and he's looking back at the scene indoors. "She said she would if it came to that, but that wasn't her first-"

And I'm left wondering what exactly the forthright woman _was_ suggesting, because Chakotay breaks off when we see Gabriel slipping down from his chair and heading towards us. He appears in the doorway.

"Come see it working," he says excitedly to Chakotay.

Chakotay smiles warmly. "I'd love to." His hand finds the small of my back as he prompts me to precede him and we follow the child indoors.

A few minutes later, while Sveta and Chakotay talk Gabriel through what will happen at the funeral, I take the cup of the truly unpalatable jumja tea that Mrs Faren keeps pressing on me and I wander out into the small yard. It's another clear blue day, and it feels so good to stand in the one bright corner here and let the sunlight warm my face. Once the tea has been surreptitiously disposed of over an unsuspecting shrub, my thoughts drift back to late last night, in bed, when Chakotay persuaded me to request to stay on for the whole of this two-week mission.

He picked his moment well. Still sitting astride him, the final aftershocks fading, I knew I'd start to cool off before long. As usual, Chakotay continued to radiate heat like a small bronze sun – the perfect time, I always think, to melt down and stretch out more or less on top of him for a few minutes. He always insists I'm not too heavy and says he's more than happy to serve as my 'heated mattress'. Although he has been known to chide me a little after the event… 'Your skills at romancing me could do with a little work, Kathryn – you have your wicked way with me then fall straight to sleep on top of me without a word!' In my defence, I always point out what a compliment it is, as I can't think of any other heated mattress that would have the same effect on me, but, I admit, I should probably work on the phrasing. And I know that I should tell him I love him more often. I forget to say it out loud because it's just so obvious to me – but I do know he still needs to hear it, now as much as ever.

Last night, blissfully draped across him, I was just about to drift off into my Chakotay-based heaven, when the warm fingers caressing my back paused. His voice thick and low, he asked me to stay on. He told me he didn't want to have to do without me beside him so soon – that we deserved more time together, here, right now.

It wasn't hard to present it to Command as a sensible suggestion, since Chakotay and Tom really do have their hands more than full with the Pairtish and the Delaydon. After our initial meet and greet sessions, these two species had requested that we include their close allies, the Joseffans, in the same meetings and deal with all three groups together. But, having met them, neither Chakotay nor I could see how we could accommodate their differing needs at the same time – let alone how we could fit them all into one room! Much to our relief, the representatives of all three species were happy to agree to our suggestion that I continue to work separately, building a relationship with the Joseffans. And I don't actually _need_ to be back on Earth immediately, since I'm not expected to take up my new role at the Academy until the New Year.

Only a few days ago, I still felt like I couldn't get back to San Francisco soon enough, but things have changed – again – and I feel differently now. Chakotay is right - to part again now would feel like too much of a wrench, too soon after we've only just found each other again. So, for once, I've decided that my career can accommodate the demands of my heart. I won't pretend that it had been my plan to stay on, but frankly, not much has gone to plan recently. And, this time, most of it seems to be connected to the man at the centre of my life. I know the Krenim classed me as a 'chaotic variable', but something tells me that Chakotay would more than qualify as well.

XxX

The funeral is a small affair.

Chakotay and Sveta made the arrangements with the help of Mrs Faren. Without someone as outspoken as Sveta to keep the teacher in check, I suspect it would have turned into a traditional Bajoran ceremony. Both Chakotay and Sveta felt it wouldn't have been true to what they knew of Eduardo's beliefs if they'd allowed that to happen. I, for one, am very grateful we won't be having a two-hour-long death chant.

Sveta told us that most of the people here are musician friends of Eduardo's, and that there will be several musical performances as part of the proceedings. As we walk in, we're accompanied by a string quartet – one of the performers playing Eduardo's cello. Sveta told us they would be playing a favourite of Eduardo's – a piece by a human composer I'm not familiar with. The delicate ascending refrain climbs like a songbird, surfing high on the air currents on a blustery spring day; it takes my breath away it's so hauntingly beautiful.

As I settle into my seat and listen, I realise it's the first time I've really spared any thoughts at all for the man whose death has brought us here. I'm glad such beautiful music played a part in his life, as it was a life touched by so much of the violence of these past decades. He lost his son and his daughter-in-law to the Cardassians and his ex-wife to the Dominion. Then, senselessly, his own life was cut short by an undiagnosed heart condition that had no business killing him in this century. Perhaps he was guilty of avoiding doctors, for whatever reason. And perhaps I should take it as a salutary warning about my own habits – I have to admit my own routine check-up is overdue, as usual.

Once the proceedings are underway, Sveta stands before the small congregation and speaks with feeling about Eduardo. Some of the antipathy I've felt towards her in the past has begun to abate a little since we arrived here. As I listen to her very personal eulogy, I realise that she must have had a very strong relationship with Eduardo Cortez. He was only a little over ten years her senior, and the possibility that they might have been more than just friends occurs to me for the first time.

Throughout the funeral, Gabriel is eerily quiet and still. Chakotay tells him he's being very brave, but I don't think brave is really the right word. To me, he seems… disconnected.

XxX

When it's time for us to leave, Chakotay drops to his haunches beside the little boy, their eyes level. Gabriel suddenly looks as if he might cry. Chakotay puts an arm around the boy's angular shoulders.

"Remember that you're part of my family, Gabriel. And that means I carry you with me here, inside." Chakotay presses his hand to his chest.

Quick brown eyes immediately connect with Chakotay's gaze. "Can I come with you on _Voyager_ now?"

I saw that one coming – I'm surprised Chakotay didn't…

Chakotay dips his head for a moment, then he looks up and smiles. "We both know there's another week of school for you before your vacation starts, so not this time. You need to stay here with Sveta. But she's already promised to bring you up to the space station as soon as we arrive back here from our mission. Then we'll talk about what happens next. Okay?"

The little boy nods obediently, but his eyes tell a different story. Suddenly, I feel unexpectedly uncomfortable about leaving him here. I know this is his home and to take him away right now would probably be the wrong thing to do, but I can also see that he and Chakotay are already developing a connection. Whether it's just hero worship on the child's side I obviously couldn't say, but it looks real enough to me.

XxX

"That was one _long_ day," I remark, as I finally sit down on the edge of the bed in Chakotay's quarters, in which he's already been lying for a good fifteen minutes.

He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "Too right," he replies, his eyelids already heavy. "Come here."

I slide between the sheets and he pulls me close.

"I didn't ask how your final meeting went," he points out. "I'm sorry."

"It went well," I reply. But, when I begin to describe the details of the program for the next week that I've agreed with the lead Joseffan representative, the slackening of his hold on me and the evening out of his breathing tell me that sleep is very close at hand and he isn't really listening.

"Sleep," I tell him, "We can talk tomorrow."

He pulls me closer still and I feel him press his lips to my temple. "Okay," he murmurs.

I stretch up to kiss his lips, then, as my eyes close and I start to relax into his warmth, I find my thoughts going back to earlier today.

After the funeral, when we left to return to the station, he was noticeably quiet. I could feel him withdrawing into himself, and it unsettled me a little. Since we arrived back from the planet, we've both been continuously occupied with separate tasks, and in the one short conversation we did have about Gabriel's situation, I felt like Chakotay was holding back. There was a hesitant look in his eyes. Perhaps he was just unwilling to dwell on things that are undeniably difficult, or perhaps it's more than that. Right now, I'm not sure.

I can't help wondering whether Sveta was suggesting Chakotay take Gabriel back to Earth at the end of this mission to live with him – with us? But each time I think about this possibility, a cloud of unanswerable questions threatens to suffocate me. What would our lives look like if we were doing the work we both love at the same time as parenting a child? Are we strong enough together to attempt it? Would I _want_ to attempt it? My gut tells me that Chakotay would, if he thinks it's the right thing to do. But would I? Right now, I'm just grateful no one has asked me any of these questions.

I decided several years ago that I'd left it too late to have my own children, and, given the events of the past decade, I've never seriously considered any of the other ways in which a child could become part of my life. So, if Chakotay and I _were_ going to do this, I'd have to unpick all the threads of the arguments I've sewn for myself to reassure me that _not_ having a child in my life was for the best. When I discovered the existence of Mollah, for a while, those same lines of reasoning were stretched to their limits. I was tortured by a burning desire to know _everything_ about my counterpart's child. I couldn't help but wonder whether Mollah represented a fullness in my counterpart's life, where there might be a silent vacuum in my own. Then it became clear that I would never even be allowed to set eyes on the little girl. So, I did everything I could to strengthen the taught network of reasoning that's ensured for years that if such a silent vacuum does exist somewhere deep within, it is painless at least and it goes unnoticed most of the time. But now, the disquiet I'm sensing in Chakotay is threatening to loosen the knots tying off the threads of those very same arguments.

I find myself thinking about the unusual life of the child we've left behind. What must it be like to grow up as one of the few aliens in this small community? Does Gabriel feel like he belongs on Bajor? Does he still feel at home there? Then it occurs to me for the first time that perhaps 'home' was simply his grandfather. And, if so, where does that leave the boy now?

I've been to more than my fair share of funerals, but, all the same, there's one image from this afternoon's proceedings that I know will stay with me for a long time. Together with five of Eduardo's musician friends, Chakotay shouldered the coffin. Sveta walked tall behind them, holding Gabriel by the hand, her striking long white hair flowing free as they made their way slowly to the front of the hall. Trailing behind six grown men and this towering woman, the little boy looked so unbearably small. As the coffin was lowered to rest at the front, I could see that lying on top was a handful of wild flowers, loosely tied with a purple ribbon, and a white card carrying one word, written in a child's hand.

' _Grandpa'_

[TBC]


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as we turn away from the airlock, Chakotay dips down to drop his comment close to my ear. "I'd say that was a resounding success."

I smile up at him as we head to the 'lift. "It was. It should put both us in Command's good books."

"Let's hope so. I doubt anyone expected we'd make so much progress so soon."

"The only hard part was keeping up with them! My face was hurting just now from all the smiling, and last night, my stomach muscles were aching from laughing so much. I'll say this for the Pairtish and the Delaydon, they certainly have stamina."

"I'm not sure I've ever met a people who are so intent on socialising and having a good time."

"Me neither. Or a space-faring civilisation that is quite so… grounded. Sure, they're interested in exploring new worlds, but their priorities all revolve around how they can improve life on their home planet."

"Yes. No one could ever accuse them of letting technological progress dictate their agenda."

"And the Joseffans were simply the gentlest, most considerate species I've ever met."

We pass a group of Starfleet personnel and acknowledge their greetings.

"I've been hoping that after two weeks, their sense of calm and harmony in everything they do will have rubbed off on me," I confide, once we're out of earshot.

"You're certainly looking calm and harmonious to me right now." Chakotay smiles.

"Good." I hope he isn't just flattering me. I've certainly been _feeling_ good recently. Very good. I smile back. "And with part of _Voyager's_ next mission in the Terran system, these few weeks are likely to be the most professionally calm and harmonious you've experienced in a long while too."

We stop at the end of the corridor and Chakotay calls the 'lift.

"You could be right," he replies. "I scanned the initial briefing again last night. I can't remember having so little to do since they sent me and my crew on all those milk runs, just after you persuaded them to give me _Voyager_. Remember?"

"How could I forget?" We step onto the 'lift and stand shoulder-to-shoulder. "Promenade," I order. "I was so damned angry!" I tell him. "You deserved so much better so much sooner."

"Well, it's good to know you were fighting my corner professionally back then." A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth and I feel his hand slide round past my lower back to rest on my hip. "Even if you were still keeping me guessing in other areas."

Angling myself towards him a little, I wag a finger at him and tap his chest. "Oh, I think you already had a pretty good idea how I felt, even then."

"You do?"

The hand on my hip guides me further round and pulls me to him – I've noticed he's an expert these days at making the most of a few seconds of privacy.

"I think you're forgetting that whenever we met, you turned up on the arm of a stream of very eligible bachelors."

"Them?" I smile. "Oh, they were just decorative."

"So you say." He leans down, taking advantage of the fact my up-do leaves the length of my neck exposed, his lips sending a delicious frisson through my nervous system. "They were all so similar," he mumbles against my skin, "so very well-bred and distinguished." His large hands slide down and find their way under my jacket to firmly cup my backside. "Guess your tastes have changed."

It shouldn't be possible for him to make me feel so good so quickly, with nothing more than a few mumbled words and a few seconds of contact. I'm suddenly rather glad we were the last to make it to the 'lifts and ended up on our own.

"I'm surprised you can remember." A warm laugh erupts in the back of my throat. "If I'm not mistaken, you were pretty busy with a certain Captain Leona at that time. That rather attractive Betazoid."

He pulls back to look at me, hands sliding up to my waist. "What, the one whose mission you sabotaged?"

I tilt my chin. "Sabotage is a strong word."

He laughs. "I barely knew her! Never got the chance – because _someone_ had her ship recalled to Earth. I never even got to take her on a proper date!"

Stepping away from him, I pull my jacket straight. I'm just about to warn him we're pushing it as we must be about to arrive, when he orders the computer to pause the 'lift.

"It'd never have worked for a man like you. Just imagine how hard it would have been to keep things to yourself the way you like to! And anyway," I go on, "she wasn't your type. She was too… calm and demure."

"Really?" He cocks his head. "And what would my type be then?"

"Strong, independent, fearless."

"Stubborn, fiery and redheaded?"

"You mean determined and passionate," I correct him.

"I do." He reaches for me and pulls me swiftly back against him. "And you're right, of course. I'll admit I'm more than a little partial to those qualities in you." He moistens his perfect lips as I watch. "No one does strong, independent and fearless quite like you do. Not to mention determined and passionate."

Then he lowers those same lips oh-so-slowly to mine, making me want to kiss him all the more for the anticipation. He has no business tasting this good early in the morning for a few stolen minutes in a turbolift – he's all mint and coffee – and his tongue gliding across mine almost makes me forget where we are. Then he pulls back a fraction – the man can be a real tease sometimes. "Although perhaps I _should_ mention passionate," he says, low, "since you do that one so _very_ well."

I slide a hand up his chest and pat his cheek, then push him to arm's length. "Why thank you, Captain."

He manoeuvres me back, holding me flush against him this time. "My pleasure, Admiral."

"I should hope so." I laugh, twisting slowly within his hold to face the 'lift doors and reluctantly breaking contact and calling for the 'lift to resume. I feel him lean down to softly kiss my neck once more from behind. "It's time we got back to the ship, you know," I remind him.

"It is," he agrees.

Even though I'd put it out of my mind until we saw off our guests, I'm well aware – as I know he is – that his call from Bajor is due in about an hour.

These past two weeks, despite the uncertainty ahead of us, I've been pleasantly surprised by how I've successfully managed to keep my worries about the future in check. They've been two of the most uncomplicated, joyful weeks I can ever remember – doing the work I love, alongside the man I love. A man who has loved me back so passionately and made me feel so cherished again that I'm sure I've been walking taller and smiling wider ever since I welcomed him back into my life.

The nightmares are lessening – or, at least, I don't remember them so often now. The sudden gasping resuscitations of the immediate aftermath of my return have been replaced by slower, more manageable awakenings. Chakotay doesn't have to bring me back so often from the brink of confused despair with the reassuring sound of his calm, soft voice, and his firm steady warmth, constant in the darkness. These days, I'm resurfacing renewed. And now, for the first time, I'm starting to believe in a future for myself that can be as solid, complicated and real as the man in whose arms I'm waking.

I'm the first to admit it's taken me a while. It wasn't until the two months of calm when we got back from the Full Circle mission that I first began to believe that the life I'd returned to might not be snatched away from me again. I began to wonder whether I might really be allowed to have all of this. But then, he left for Marsada – _so_ suddenly – just as I was allowing myself to believe in that possibility, and it was a huge setback for me. Within minutes I'd reverted to my old ways of thinking about myself as someone whose emotional and romantic life is doomed to tragedy. And it actually made sense to me. I'd never had anything quite that good before and it seemed obvious that nothing that good could possibly be allowed to last.

But now? Now, despite all that, I'm daring to hope again. Now, it's even better than before and I wouldn't have believed that to be possible. It's better because I know - we both know – that we can survive a trial that extreme and still find one another again. Not only still need one another, but still _want_ one another again. Still _desperately_ want one another.

Perhaps Chakotay and I have finally come full circle – here we are, back on the same ship, and I'm still his commanding officer for missions like this one at least, but so much is different. We're different. I've made a point of trying to tell him exactly what he is to me – in a great deal more than just those three words. And whenever we've had time together, we've used some of it to begin our own very personal debriefings, where we talk - _really_ talk – with a brutal mutual honesty that has shocked, liberated and refreshed me in equal measure.

We've touched on so many things: the agonising contradictions of those seven eventful years on _Voyager_ the first time around; his unlikely relationship with Seven; getting home; finally finding one another and that unforgettable first night of unrestrained ardour, relief, elation and pure untarnished bliss. We've also spoken candidly about my 'entirely preventable' assimilation – he's still angry about that; about Venice and the death of hope for him; about his descent into chaos and his painfully slow rehabilitation; my improbable suspension and my even more improbable return; about Q sparing him and sending him back to me; and about the myriad of things that have happened during the twelve complicated months of my own rehabilitation that have passed since then.

Chakotay can be so candid with others – blunt, when needs be – but he's been too used to putting on the kid gloves when he's dealing with me. So, I decided they should come off too, given how much I appreciate him unrestricted by clothing of any kind.

I know he still holds back sometimes, but we've made a hell of a lot of progress. Some of our conversations have been difficult – the heat of his smouldering anger about the way I handled Kashyk both times we encountered him is something I'm unlikely to forget in a hurry. And I doubt Chakotay enjoyed answering the questions I've always avoided asking him until now about his – mercifully short – relationship with my former protégé. But I know this is how it has to begin if we're going to stay together. And now, finally, I'm convinced that we are. Partly because we survived the trials of the past month, and partly because my new life no longer feels provisional.

I haven't come back from the dead to the promise of a charmed life protected from any future pain. What I have is better than that; I've been allowed to come back to a _real_ life. And I know that I'm more alive. The woman I am now would never dream of suggesting ten months of deferred gratification to the man I love.

So we've talked about all these things. About just about everything, except – ironically perhaps – what to do right now. We haven't quite gotten to the present yet and, after all, the past is a lot safer and a lot less volatile. In our defence, until Chakotay hears back from this counsellor he's had assessing Gabriel's situation, there are just so many unknowns. It would have been hard to do much more than speculate.

And speculate I most certainly have… During those quiet moments when my willing body is moulded in boneless contentment to Chakotay's side, more than once I've found myself wondering what it would be like to be his partner in parenting the serious little boy who loves the stars. Lying secure in the loving warmth of Chakotay's embrace, I've allowed these thoughts to form, even though certainly not all of them are calming. It feels safer somehow to entertain these thoughts than the ones whose tiny fingers curl around the edges of my consciousness when my guard is down sometimes.

Even though I'm no older than Sekaya was when she had her first child, I've never dared allow myself to imagine what it would be like for Chakotay and I to have a child of our own. What if I let myself want it – encouraged him to want it, more than I suspect he already does – and then it transpired that it isn't possible? Once you admit you want something, you can't just _decide_ to stop wanting it. I have no intention of courting that sort of pain – or torturing a good man with it – or of allowing myself to be haunted by the beautiful, perfect faces of children I could never have.

So I decided. I'm too old, my body – not to mention my mind – has been through too much. The events of the past decade robbed me of that choice, and that's that. I don't want to be pitied. It is what it is. I have a rich and wonderful life and I'm a godmother, and that has to be enough.

These are the things I've told myself.

And it has been enough. Until now. And Gabriel.

Now, I find myself wondering what it would be like if Chakotay decides Gabriel should be with him – with us – as much as possible, rather than try to place him with anyone else. I find myself contemplating whole new landscapes of experience that I never thought I would have the chance to explore. I don't even have to think about it to know that Chakotay would make a wonderful father, but I have certainly wondered whether I would be up to the job of mothering a child.

I knew that as soon as this mission was officially over – which it is now that we've seen off our guests – it would be time to face the new uncertainty of this situation. Despite how much more secure I feel about things between us, I can't deny I'm more than a little apprehensive right now.

XxX

My preliminary report already made to Akaar, I leave the ready room I borrowed for the task behind and make my way down to find Chakotay.

The doors to the captain's quarters open in front of me to reveal him, standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips.

"Yes. Thank you," he looks up mid-sentence, "you've done a great job. I couldn't have asked for a more thorough report."

I hesitate on the threshold, but he gestures for me to come in even though the Bajoran counsellor is still speaking.

" _You're welcome, Captain. It was my pleasure. Gabriel was easy to work with, he relates very well to adults and he's an interesting child. I don't just mean his situation – I mean the boy himself. He seems old beyond his years somehow. My wife would say he has 'ancient pagh', if that means anything to a human."_

"Yes, it does," Chakotay replies. "An 'old soul', we'd say."

I slip my jacket off and hang it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

" _He's looking forward to coming up to the station this afternoon_ ," the Bajoran goes on. _"I suspect he's more than a little in awe of you still – you are captain of his favourite starship after all – but he's very keen to see you again, which is a good sign."_

"I'm glad to hear that."

I hover just inside the room as Chakotay takes his leave of the counsellor. I'm well aware of how important this call is to him – I know he's been pinning his hopes on it providing him with some clarity.

Now he's closed the channel, I move over to join him in front of the viewport, the apprehension I'm feeling tightening the muscles around my mouth as I try to keep it from creeping into my gaze as well.

"So, what were his recommendations?"

I had presumed the call would have been over long ago, and I'd purposefully left it a while longer still before coming here, so Chakotay would have time to digest everything he's just been told. Or maybe I was just delaying this moment, I don't know. Perhaps I'm guilty of wanting to hold on to the present for as long as possible…

I see him take a deep breath and he smiles, with all the appearance of being completely at ease – although we're both well aware that he isn't.

"Well, he said a lot of things. He gave me a general report to start with."

As I watch him adopting his 'at ease' stance and clasping his hands behind his back, I recognise it immediately for the coping mechanism that it is.

"Gabriel is well-liked and respected by his classmates, and gets on well with other children, although he doesn't socialise with them outside school. He and Eduardo were very close and spent a great deal of time together. He loves science and math, but he hates his Belaklavion lesson – which isn't a surprise to me, since Roberto was tone deaf." He quirks an eyebrow. "Guess Eduardo's musical gene has skipped another generation. He has a good relationship with his teacher, but not one Toran Ren would describe as close; he doesn't have any really close relationships – other than with his grandfather. Apparently, he knows Sveta as well as he knows any adult, possibly a little better even, since she's stayed with them on several occasions during his childhood."

He pauses, his eyes on my face.

"He spoke with everyone who has responsibility for Gabriel – the family doctor, his teacher, and with several of Eduardo's friends who know him a little. Then he went on to make his recommendations about what happens now."

Nodding quickly, I turn and head for the replicator, gesturing to offer him something too. He shakes his head. As I stand with my back to him, waiting for my coffee to materialise, my pulse suddenly racing, it becomes harder to ignore my own state of heightened agitation.

"Faren Pallra has offered to take Gabriel in," he goes on. "You know that when I briefed Ren I told him I have strong reservations about Gabriel living with her. She's too old for one thing and the huge part her religion plays in her life would mean there'd be an obvious cultural mismatch."

As I turn to face him, a tension seems to expand out across the room to fill the space between us. "I know you didn't feel the atmosphere in that house was right for bringing up a child," I remark, as much to fill the space as for any other reason.

"No. I didn't," he confirms. "Apparently, both her sons and her husband were killed during the Occupation – which explains the large empty house."

"It also explains the quiet sadness that seemed to surround her."

"Yes, it does."

I take a sip of coffee, my eyes never leaving his. "So, if she and Sveta are the only adults Gabriel knows well, other than his grandfather, what did the counsellor suggest you do?"

Chakotay swallows, looking as uncomfortable as I've ever seen him. Something tells me that a pretty big part of him isn't ready to tell me anything yet. I find myself wondering if, despite everything we've just been through, he's still tempted to offer me some limited, selective truths here… His gaze drops to the floor for a second then he looks back up.

"He said that if I wanted to take Gabriel to Earth to live, he thought that could work. His assessment is that he's unusually self-contained for a child of eight, but that he's generally happy and well-adjusted, and once he's grieved for his grandfather, he'd cope with the changes as well as any child would. He believes the connection Gabriel has to the community he lives in isn't so strong that he'd suffer without it, as long as he has at least one adult who genuinely cares for him and who devotes time to him."

We both know Chakotay is trying hard not to watch my reactions intently. And we both know he's failing. I moisten my lips and swallow, still holding his gaze.

"Then, he went through the advantages of keeping him in the community he grew up in. He mentioned adoption."

Despite the deceptively even tone Chakotay achieves right up until the final word of that sentence, we both already know it'll be a cold day in hell before he puts Gabriel up for adoption – he can barely bring himself to say the word.

"Apparently," he continues, "if I insisted that the adoption agency find a couple prepared to encourage a scientific education, then they couldn't guarantee to place him in the community he's grown up in."

"That doesn't sound good." My gaze falls to the dark liquid in my cup.

"No. Neither Maiara nor Roberto would ever have agreed to their son being brought up without access to a scientific education. Even if I felt okay about leaving him on Bajor with no close relations – which I don't," he adds immediately, perhaps a little more forcefully than he'd intended, before he pauses a second. "For that reason alone," he resumes, his tone even once more, "I could never allow adoption."

"And Sveta?" I ask, fighting to keep my own tone even.

"Sveta is willing to take custody of him. She says she'd set herself up in a more permanent way on Earth."

"I see. And how do you feel about that idea?" I ask immediately.

"Gabriel relates well to her. He trusts her. It could work."

"But?" His eyes already betray how he really feels, but I was hoping he'd tell me. I think it's time we addressed the elephant that entered this room the moment Chakotay said that the counsellor didn't see any major objections to Gabriel leaving Bajor.

"There's a lot to think about."

That's something of an understatement, I'd say.

"But you'd rather have him with you?"

I watch him attempt to swallow away his discomfort.

"Ren said he thinks Gabriel relates well to me, for obvious reasons: he's spent his life with a male parent – an active older man; he already associates me with family and his dreams are all about flying between the stars in a starship. Ren said he thought the move would make sense to Gabriel, if it's what I want."

"And is it?" I press, because I need to know.

"Look, Kathryn," he takes a step towards me, dark eyes reaching across the space I'd put between us. "These past two weeks have been… so good, so important for us – and I know this complicates everything – again."

He shakes his head a little. His gaze drops to the carpet he's so fond of studying at moments like this and he sighs out a long breath. But, then he surprises me by looking up almost immediately and closing the distance between us. Gentle hands take my coffee cup from me and place it on the table. Then, suddenly, he's all around me, and, as I look up, his gaze is so direct that it feels like he's right inside my head.

"I heard what you said to Tom after we came back from the funeral, so I need to know how you feel about all of this now. It matters. You're one of the most compassionate people I've ever known, Kathryn, but I'm well aware that's no guarantee you're going to want to continue to share your life with a man who has a child you barely know in tow."

I lick my lips, swallowing the urge to look away as I cast my mind back. At the evening reception, I know I told Tom I thought it was likely Chakotay would ask Sveta to take charge of Gabriel – that I thought that could work, or words to that effect. I stand by what I said, but I just hadn't realised Chakotay was in earshot. Suddenly, I feel as if I'm being put on the spot, despite the fact this is hardly a surprise.

"Don't worry about us, Chakotay. Whatever you decide, you and I will be fine."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. We'll be fine," I reaffirm.

"Okay." He nods, but I can tell that he isn't really satisfied with that answer. "I still need to talk to Sveta."

"Are you thinking about some sort of joint arrangement?"

"Do you think that'd be best?" he asks immediately.

I shake my head a little, the dynamic of this last interaction unsettling me further. "I couldn't say. I know very little about Sveta and there's so much to consider." Surely this has to be his decision? It wouldn't be right if I allowed him to be swayed by my reservations about my own suitability.

"Yes, there certainly is."

I can see in his eyes that he's understood I don't want to influence him, but I can't tell how he feels about that realisation or what he thinks it means.

"They arrive in a few minutes. We need to get down there."

"Okay. Look Chakotay – whatever happens, we'll adapt," I reassure him, squeezing his hands.

"I hope so," he replies, but his quiet words lack conviction.

[TBC]


	14. Chapter 14

"This coffee smells terrible." Sveta sets her own cup down on the small table with a dramatic clatter and passes me mine, before seating herself opposite me.

"I'm sure I've had worse." I smile. Frankly, I'm surprised anyone could have anything but the lowest expectations of coffee from a replimat.

"It is good that we are alone. I have something to say to you," she tells me as soon as she's seated. After another mouthful of coffee and a grimace, she steeples her impossibly long white fingers, pressing her palms together and resting her lips against her fingertips.

"Oh?" I thought she seemed a little too keen to encourage Chakotay to take Gabriel off the minute they'd finished eating. They've gone to find the best vantage point on the station from which to see _Voyager_.

As she watches me she interlocks her pale digits, then lowers them to rest clasped in front of her. "I know we have not often seen eye to eye and you may not believe my opinion is worth hearing, but I would be grateful if you would hear it anyway."

"I won't deny that I haven't always found our conversations easy, Sveta, but if you knew me better, you'd know that I don't dismiss someone's opinion just because I don't share it."

"I am glad to hear this," she replies, and I believe her, because she glances to the side for a moment as if she's trying to choose her next words carefully – a first, I'd say, when she's in my company, at least.

"What is it you want to say?" I ask, my left hand balling reflexively into a fist, despite my intentions to keep an open mind.

Her gaze returns to mine and she fixes me with her cool grey eyes. "Chakotay wishes to adopt Gabriel."

"He told you?" I feel my eyebrows rise as the bottom drops out of my stomach.

"No."

I exhale my relief. It would have amazed me right now if Chakotay had left me out of his decision-making again without me realising.

"But I can tell this is what he wants," Sveta goes on immediately, still holding my gaze. "I see it in his face and I hear it between the lines of everything he says to me. There is nothing for Gabriel here. He is lost without Eduardo. I have felt it since the minute I arrived. This report Chakotay insisted on confirms what I already told him. It is time for the boy to start afresh somewhere new. Chakotay agrees that Gabriel cannot stay here, but he does not dare tell you what he really wants."

"I think you'll find that he is simply taking _time_ to make the right decision," I state firmly, fingernails digging into my palm. "He has a great deal to consider."

"You think he is worried about his career?" Her tone stops just short of contemptuous incredulity.

"That's certainly one thing he'd need to think about."

'"It is not concern for his career that is holding him back."

Despite how annoying it is to be told what to think – and by Sveta of all people – I know in my heart that she's right. Maiara was part of Chakotay's family and I know that he loved Roberto like a brother. Family commitments have always come first for Chakotay. If I needed proof that this is still the case – which I don't – I only have to think about what he was prepared to do for Sekaya and her family only a few weeks ago.

"He is frightened he will lose _you_ if he chooses to share his life with this child," she states, her level gaze unflinching.

I sigh out a breath, furious with myself. I should never have let myself get sucked into a debate with her. "Look, Sveta, I'm sure you mean well, but it's for Cha-"

"Is he right to fear this?" She cuts me off. "Are you unwilling to commit to sharing the care of a child?"

Laying both hands flat on the table, I push myself quickly up to standing. But rather than read this as a sign that I'm determined to end this discussion, Sveta seems to take my lack of verbal reply as confirmation.

"Well, then, you need not worry," she continues immediately. "Gabriel will live with me. I never imagined that I would have a child, but I can change my life if need be." Then she raises one of her long fingers. "Although I have not forgotten that Roberto and Maiara did not _choose_ me - and they could have. So, I will try to ensure that we are on Earth whenever Chakotay is."

Even though I'm standing at the side of the table now, desperately scanning the Promenade for Chakotay and Gabriel, my body language screaming of my discomfort, Sveta _still_ continues.

"I have already told Gabriel he will be coming to Earth with me in my ship when I leave tomorrow," she informs me.

My eyes snap back to hers at this, betraying, I'm sure, both my surprise and dismay. "You should have waited for _Chakotay_ to tell him what will happen now."

"The child needed certainty," she replies, clearly unrepentant. "He needs to know he is wanted."

Then, much to my surprise, I discover I have nothing to say to that. Because, actually, I think I agree with her. While I'm still processing this, Chakotay and Gabriel reappear.

The little boy's excitement about having finally set eyes on his favourite starship is palpable and infectious. I find myself smiling, despite the pulses of confusion ricocheting between my head and my heart.

Gabriel climbs onto the chair that I've just vacated opposite Sveta.

"We could see underneath. I saw the nacelles and the deflector, and where they eject the warp core!" Then he twists round to look at me. "Where do you sit on the bridge?"

My discomfort under control again, I lean in and lower my voice to a stage whisper. "Don't tell Chakotay, but if he's not there, I sit right back in the centre, in the captain's seat."

He smiles. "Can you tell them to go to slipstream drive whenever you like?"

I stand tall again. "Well, yes, pretty much. And it certainly comes in handy when you need to leave somewhere in a hurry."

Chakotay comes to stand behind Gabriel's chair and I can feel the warmth of Chakotay's gaze on me as the child reels off a seemingly endless string of questions.

When I've answered as many as I can – Gabriel listening intently, committing my answers to memory, I suspect – Sveta stands. She says that before they catch the shuttle back to Bajor, they just have enough time to visit a concession on the Promenade that sells some new snack from the Gamma Quadrant that she thinks Gabriel will like. They head off in front of us.

Chakotay and I make our way slowly to the embarkation point to wait for them. We may be in uniform still, but we're no longer on duty, so I take Chakotay's arm.

As there isn't much time, I get straight to the point. "Ideally, would you like Gabriel to be with you all the time?"

"I was planning for us to talk about all of this as soon as we'd seen them off," he replies as we walk.

I know a long discussion in a private setting would probably be sensible, but Sveta's words about the little boy needing certainty are still echoing around my head. "And what were you planning to say?" I press. A flicker of tension enters his expression as I watch his face.

"I would like him to be with me, yes," he confirms. "But I've been asking myself whether it would be in his best interests. I don't know if I would ever be able to provide the sort of stable base a child needs."

I nod. "I understand what you're saying, but I think he'd adapt. Starfleet children often grow up moving around a great deal, and a stable parent is more important than a stable place."

"True. But I don't know if it's right to expose him to the possibility of more loss – given the life I lead, the job I do..."

Turning to me fully, he slows to a stop and leads me over to the side of the walkway, out of the way of any passersby. We stand facing one another, a little way from the shuttle embarkation point. He takes both my hands in his.

"But you know that my main worry is about us," he says quietly, the anxiety he's feeling all too evident now. "Can you honestly say you could see yourself as part of that plan?"

" _Yes_." I squeeze his fingers, willing him to believe me. "You have to _trust_ me to help shoulder your burdens."

"That's just it." His gaze drops to our joined hands, then he looks up again. "I don't see Gabriel as a burden. I know it won't be straightforward, but I _want_ to do this, Kathryn." Dark eyes intense and serious, he swallows. "But, I also know it could tear me apart if I lose you again."

As I open my mouth to reply, a head of sleek brown hair enters my peripheral vision and looks up at me and I'm silenced by the realisation that Gabriel and Sveta have returned. We turn as one to face them.

Gabriel's focus is on Chakotay. "We saw the wormhole open."

"Gabriel made a wish – as did I – when we saw it," Sveta adds, her eyes on me. Then, with an enigmatic smile, she offers me one of the small black triangular items from the little paper bag she is carrying – I decline.

"Sveta says her ship would fit inside _Voyager_ ," the boy tells Chakotay.

"That's right," Chakotay replies.

Her expression composed and as unreadable to me as ever, Sveta observes the two of them.

"She said we can go to Earth on _Voyager_ with you, if you say it's okay." Arms by his sides, fists clenched, the boy holds himself incredibly still as he waits on Chakotay's reply.

It would be completely justifiable for Chakotay to be furious with Sveta for putting him in this position, but if he is, even I can't tell.

"Well," he replies slowly, his hand covering the child's shoulder, "I think that would be more than okay. Permission to come aboard granted."

A small spluttering sound issues from Gabriel's lips, and, at first, I'm not sure what it is, until I read the delight in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but he smiles, and I find myself smiling with him.

Then he looks at Chakotay, his eyes alive with cautious interest. "Where do you live on Earth?"

Chakotay glances at me for a split second, then opens his mouth to reply.

I beat him to it. "He lives with me," I tell Gabriel. "And when you come to Earth, that's where you'll live too."

As Chakotay and I hold each other's gaze for a moment over the little boy's head, something powerful passes between us.

"Although," I add, with a quirk of my chin and a smile, "we'll need to get a bigger apartment."

Then, he drops down to gently clasp the child by the upper arms. "What Kathryn is saying is that we'd like you to come live with us, in San Francisco, as long as it's what you want as well. We'll arrange for you to spend time with Sveta too."

Gabriel nods.

"You can tell Sveta what you think about the idea tonight, and we'll all talk tomorrow, on our way to Earth. Do you think that'd be okay?"

"Yeah. Yes please." Gabriel looks suddenly serious, as if he's well aware of the significance of this conversation.

"If you change your mind once you get back to Bajor," Chakotay says to him, "that's okay too. Sveta will tell me and we'll make other plans."

"I don't want to change my mind," the boy replies immediately, staring directly at Chakotay, a determined expression on his face.

Chakotay dips his head for a moment. "You know you would have to come with me on some of _Voyager_ ' _s_ missions."

"Children can come on whole missions?" Gabriel's eyes widen a little and he rolls his lip inwards as he listens intently.

"On some missions, yes. If the captain agrees." Chakotay smiles. "We'll have a tutor on board – so you won't miss out on school. And there'll be other children coming with us on the next mission too. You'll get to know them. And on Earth, my cousin Kohana has four children, human like you. Two of them are about your age. You'll meet them one day. They're a part of our family too."

"Okay." Gabriel nods.

"We must go now, Chakotay," Sveta says, touching Chakotay's arm.

Chakotay turns to face her quickly, catching my eye in passing. I get the impression that, like me, he's been so involved in this conversation that he's almost forgotten about the imminent departure of the shuttle.

Our goodbyes are quick and cheerful, as we know we'll be together again tomorrow when they come aboard _Voyager_ for the trip back to Earth.

XxX

5 days later

"Tom, Miral, hello. What can I do for you?"

"Is this a bad time?" Tom frowns, taking in the scene in the galley. "We can come back later."

"No need. We're just making dinner."

"I'm hungry," Miral says.

"You just ate!" Tom replies, his expression somewhere between affronted and perplexed.

Gabriel reappears from the back where I'd sent him in search of a utensil suitable for stirring. He holds up a strange looking five-pronged tool, quite possibly dating back to Neelix's time. "I found this," he tells me.

"Good work." I smile. "That'll do nicely."

He takes in the new arrivals. Tom says hello, Miral stares.

Gabriel glances quickly back to me. "Shall I do it now?"

"Absolutely."

Coming back to my side, he climbs up onto the two-step stool I put in front of the hot plates for him and pokes the new utensil into the pan.

"I want to see," Miral announces, prodding Tom to pick her up. He lifts her onto his hip with an ease that makes me envious – last time I tried to pick her up I immediately wished I hadn't – and she peers into the pan.

"What's on the menu then, Admiral?" Tom asks.

"Vegetable chilli. One of Gabriel's grandpa's recipes."

"So, you decided not to use the replicator?" he enquires, innocently enough.

"We did."

"Surely you're not still having issues with the replicator in the captain's quarters?"

"Perish the thought." I glare at him. "No. Gabriel is used to helping cook with fresh food, and we had the time this evening, so I thought we'd try out the facilities in here. Admiral and Captain's privilege."

"Of course," Tom replies. "After all, this did used to be your private dining room."

Gabriel turns to catch my eye, surprised, as he carefully stirs the food.

"It's true." I smile. "It did. But I decided it was a little bigger than I needed."

"Well, it certainly looks like you tried out a lot of things," Tom remarks, casting his eyes over the preparation surfaces littered with vegetable peelings, knives of various sizes and heaps of several different herbs and spices.

"You made a mess," Miral says solemnly.

Gabriel looks quickly to me.

"Guess we did rather." I shrug, wiping my hands on the oversized cream coloured chef's apron I have on. "Oh well. Chakotay will be here in a moment. And there are some Janeway family rules I'm about to remind him of. One of them is 'she who cooks must never clear up.' And that includes the cook's assistant obviously."

"I don't like clearing up," Miral announces with conviction.

"But you always do such a great job, sweetie," Tom tells her. She stares at him, looking singularly unimpressed. Then he leans down to drop his quiet comment into my ear. "More positive reinforcement – B'Elanna's latest theory."

Stifling a snort of laughter, I smile at him. "Is there anything I can do for you two, or were you just looking for a snack?"

"Can I have a snack?" Miral asks immediately.

Tom rolls his eyes accusingly at me. I shrug.

"I tracked you here to ask whether the four of you would like to come to our spacious quarters for dinner tomorrow," he says.

"That's very kind. I'll ask the others and we'll let you know. The replicator and Sveta have done most of the catering so far. Gabriel and I thought we'd give them a night off tonight."

Tom's eyes fall on Gabriel. "What do you think of the replicator, Gabriel?"

The boy looks cautiously at Tom. "It's good," he says quietly.

"I bet you'll get the hang of it quickly," Tom assures him. "Miral loves being allowed to experiment," he confides. Then he catches my eye and grins. "But real food like this is definitely the best."

"How's the rice coming?" I ask Gabriel.

He peers into the other pan. "It's kind of lumpy," he replies matter-of-factly.

" _Really_?" I frown. It's only _rice_ , for God's sake! I mean, how hard can it be? Picking up a fork ready to test it, I lean down to take a closer look just as I hear the swish of the mess hall doors followed by some very familiar footfalls.

"Relax, Admiral," Tom says with a smile. "The cavalry has arrived."

XxX

Propped up on one elbow, right hand supporting my head, I let the fingers of my left hand trace the contours of his broad chest and I watch his face. At this moment, he's radiating contentment. There is so much love in his half-open eyes that it makes me acutely aware of just how lucky I am. Of just how much we've grown together, how much is different – better, stronger – between us now and how much has endured despite the dizzying number of changes we've been obliged to live through.

He reaches over and captures my roaming hand and stills it, his thumb pressing gently into my palm while his fingers gently curl around mine. "I'm so relieved you want to do this," he tells me.

"I do want to." I pivot my head as it rests supported in the ball of my other hand, and my gaze travels down past the end of the bed to the streaks of light in the depths of space outside. "But that doesn't mean it isn't an intimidating prospect."

"Believe me, Kathryn," he lets go of my hand to reach up and take my chin, bringing my gaze back to his. "I feel the same. But, it'll be a new challenge – for both of us."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty who will say it's madness for us to even attempt it." I purse my lips. "My sister for one."

"I'm sure there will." His long fingers release my chin to brush the hair from my cheek. Then they delicately ghost their way slowly down my neck, my shoulder, my arm. "But we choose our own path."

"We do."

Only time will tell if it proves to be a challenge too far for me – for us. But I can't bear for him to have to do this on his own, any more than I can countenance the idea of losing him again right now.

"And we are both mature, sensible adults." I splay the fingers of my free hand flat against the virtually hairless muscular plane of his chest. "Both remarkably resilient and emotionally stable, given everything we've been through. And there's always room for one more in the _Voyager_ family."

"Couldn't have put it better myself." He smiles.

"That said, I don't mind telling you that I have no real idea how to be a parent."

"You're no ordinary woman, and I doubt you'll be an ordinary parent. But he's no ordinary little boy, so I think it'll be a good fit."

"Well, if you really think so, then I'll try to believe it too."

"Good." He captures my hand again, bringing it to his lips. "And we look for a larger apartment then?"

"With at least three bedrooms and a bigger living room."

"And a bigger study."

"Two studies." I tap his chest twice. "Then I can spread, and I won't have to listen to you talking to yourself while you work."

"I don't talk to myself!"

"And, I'm feeling positive about my next move at the Academy too. I'm looking forward to the New Year." I slide my hand up to the back of his neck and I lean further across him, my face close enough to his to taste his minty breath.

"Oh, I feel certain the future will be bright," he murmurs.

I cup his face. "And we face it together."

He lifts his head a fraction to press his lips to mine. "Together."

[TBC]


	15. Chapter 15

Seven months later

I think she knows.

I could see it in her eyes earlier. When she said she'd see me here later, I could hear it too, in the subtle inflections of her voice.

I'm guessing she already had a pretty good idea what was going on two days ago. Sekaya was just handing the perfect golden circle back to me when Kathryn appeared in the doorway. My sister said Kathryn was looking straight at it, and it glinted in the sunlight as I quickly dropped it into my pocket.

I had to get it made smaller. It took an early morning trip to the only jeweller here. I carefully peeled Kathryn's sleeping form from my side and slipped away. I took Gabriel with me. Our cover story was that we were fetching fresh bread from the new bakery that happens to be next door to the jeweller's workshop. Kalem makes his own delicious bread daily at the house though, so I doubt Kathryn was fooled for a minute.

Ever since I picked it up from the jewellers about half an hour ago, it's been burning a hole in my pocket. I told Kathryn I'd accepted Kalem's offer to show me around the kitchens and meet the staff at the restaurant before they opened for dinner tonight. My plan almost backfired when she said it sounded like an interesting offer and she'd come with me.

Luckily, Gabriel was in the room. As she was speaking, I caught his eye.

"Will you help me find Lousha?" he asked Kathryn almost immediately.

On our first day here, Gabriel won over the large cat-like animal with his quiet patience. I've had to lift her off his bed a couple of times this week, as she takes up more of it than he does once she stretches out.

"She went out back into the woods again," he went on. "If I don't go find her now, I won't get to play with her before we go."

Kathryn immediately agreed to help him find her. He's a smart boy. As soon as Kathryn's back was turned I winked at him and he shot me that smile that reminds me of Maiara.

I asked for a quiet table, and Kalem made sure I got one. It's in the furthest corner of the decking, beside the intricately carved wooden balustrade. The restaurant has three walls. Where the fourth would be, the room opens out and the tables continue onto decking that stretches out over the lake. There's a series of large translucent awnings overhead, in an interlocking pattern of elongated triangles. They remind me of birds' wings, but, knowing Marsadan culture, the designer was probably inspired by some indigenous fish.

As I sip my drink – the Marsadan equivalent of champagne – the whirring of my mind reminds me that I need to make more time to meditate. Life has been so full of activity recently that it's taken me most of this week of vacation to even begin to unwind. Sitting here waiting for Kathryn feels like the first time I've been left alone with my thoughts long enough to really take stock of everything that's happened since I was last in the Marsadan system.

I've been on several missions since we brought Gabriel back from DS9. So far, it's been possible for him to come with me on _Voyager_ most of the time. The other times, he stayed with Kathryn, or Sveta has offered to have him. She's helped out whenever I've asked her. She and Kathryn are still pretty wary of one another. Whenever it seems hopeless, I remind myself that if Tom Paris and I can become friends, then it's not impossible that one day these two incredibly strong women might. But, it's safe to say, that day is still a way off.

Gretchen was the first person Kathryn told about our decision. She said she thought it was wonderful that Gabriel would be living with us. I suspect it was a different story with Phoebe. Kathryn eventually admitted to me that her sister had been pretty vocal in her objections at first. I wasn't surprised. She was probably worried for Kathryn that sharing her life with a child might not make her happy - she wasn't the only one. The first time we saw Phoebe when we got back, there was look in her eye that made me wonder if she wasn't just waiting for it all to blow up in our faces. But that was months ago now. She's been nothing but supportive ever since. I guess she must have come around to the idea.

Sekaya said that the spirits must have had a hand in me giving Gabriel the tiny replica of _Voyager_ years ago, because it planted the seeds of our future together. B'Elanna just hugged me and said it was about time I wiped my fair share of runny noses. Then she told me that the Klingons say quiet children usually make the most bloodthirsty warriors.

Gretchen has looked after Gabriel once or twice. He's learning what to expect from whom. Gretchen and Phoebe spoil him rotten, while Sveta treats him like a small adult. Sometimes it's meant complicated logistical arrangements, and sometimes it feels like Kathryn and I are playing tag-parenting. But, all in all, I think things have worked out pretty well so far.

That's not to say there haven't been some hair-raising moments, or moments when I've questioned whether I wasn't selfish to want him with me. A case in point would be when I woke up in sickbay on our last mission. I'd had a front row seat for the accident in Engineering. Just after I came around, I turned my head to see Jarem leading Gabriel towards me. The sickening rush of guilt I felt on seeing him white with fear was almost enough to knock me unconscious again. Thankfully, I'd only been out for about an hour. He's a tough kid though. He seemed to bounce right back within minutes.

He's grown quite a bit and he's filled out a little too in the past few months. He's still kind of angular; I'm convinced that, one day, he'll be as tall as the men on Maiara's side of the family. By the time he's a teenager, I suspect I'll be getting a crick in my neck looking up at him just like I do when I'm talking to Mike Ayala's towering young giants. I see Roberto in his eyes sometimes, and I hear echoes of Maiara's laughter when he's excited. His favourite bedtime stories are the ones I tell him about the brave Starfleet officer named Roberto and the rebel with the beautiful smile who won his heart.

And he's made a friend. The son of my new transporter chief. A fireball of a kid, a year older and twice as boisterous. I like him a lot. He reminds me of Kohana as a boy. And when he's around, Kathryn and I stop worrying that Gabe spends too much time with adults and is growing up too serious.

It took him two full weeks to tell us he prefers Gabe to Gabriel. Sveta knew all along, but somehow forgot to mention it. He's spent a fair amount of time with her so far. She's taken him on some fantastic trips to Europe and he's come back each time with some very special stories to tell.

We've yet to travel to my colony, but that's on the horizon for the next time we take an extended vacation. I've wanted to take Kathryn there for a while now, and it feels important to introduce Gabriel to his mother's cultural heritage, even if he doesn't remember her or feel a connection to the tribe. He may never decide to embrace that part of his identity, but I want him to experience it at least. Sekaya has begun researching Ichante's family, Gabriel's maternal grandfather. It's slow going, but we're both convinced that at least one of his descendants must have survived.

When we talked about planning a trip to my colony, Kathryn asked whether I'd ever want to buy one of the houses that have been built as part of the reconstruction project. I told her no. I lost too much there. And I carry those people in my heart. I don't need to be there to feel close to them. We've actually been talking about buying a holiday place here on Marsada – somewhere big enough for the three of us and a few guests too maybe.

The apartment we chose in San Francisco is probably larger than we really need, but I'm not complaining. It's in the building next to Kathryn's old one and has the same view out over the bay. The amount of stuff Kathryn seems to own more than makes up for the fact that I still have very few material possessions. Every time she visits Gretchen's house she seems to come back with yet another Janeway family heirloom we can't live without.

Professionally, I've been on an even keel for the past few months. I've continued to navigate my way through life as a Starfleet captain the only way I know how. I approach each day with the same commitment to challenging the organisation whose colours I wear to be the best it can be.

I grew up a contrary, and I've lived most of my adult life as an outsider. I reclaimed both those terms years ago. Now, I wear them as proudly as I wear my uniform. Whenever Kathryn catches me tugging on the collar or at the cuffs, she chides me, and tells me I should customise the replicator program. But I doubt it'd make any difference. I doubt any uniform would really fit me properly. And I've actually grown to respect that slight sense of discomfort. It helps me stay sharp.

Sometimes it's easier for me to examine Starfleet and the Federation's priorities and actions with a cold eye. What happened here on Marsada last year with the Breen is still fresh in my mind, as it is in the minds of the people I hold most dear. But, that doesn't change my conviction that people like me, whose loyalties straddle more than one world, are blessed, rather than cursed, with our own unique perspective. The way I see it, there'll probably always be times when we have a duty to ourselves, and to others, to voice some of the insights that perspective affords us. Especially when some of those around us seem to find it hard not to accord Earth a privileged status, rather than see it as no more or less important than the other members of the Federation.

Since the Marsadan affair, I think Kathryn and I have found more common ground than ever before. I know that if the Federation looked like it was about to choose a similar path again, she'd be one of the first to object, as publically and as vocally as possible. I also know that, as a last resort, I'd resign again if I had to. But, long before it came to that, I know that I'd stand beside her, working as hard as I could to convince anyone who'd listen that there's always another way.

She's been a success at the Academy so far. She's found preparing classes more time consuming than she'd anticipated. And she's had to work hard at honing her teaching skills, but she's been very much up the challenge. I'm glad she's also had the project with Picard. It's provided her with the light relief she needed when the semester seemed too long and too demanding. I don't honestly know how much real work the two of them do. I suspect most of their time is spent entertaining each other by swapping stories over long 'working' lunches. But, she always comes back renewed, so as far as I'm concerned, it's been a success as well. I'll admit I do have to remind myself sometimes that he isn't competition. They certainly have quite a rapport.

Her confidence has taken a few knocks when it comes to parenting Gabriel. There've been moments of confusion and tears, but she's survived. Sveta says the life he's led so far means that he's already a man's man – which always makes me laugh, given he's still only a boy. It may be that it's taken him a little longer to feel totally comfortable around Kathryn than it seemed to with me. There was a tricky period the first time I couldn't take him with me on a mission. Kathryn was convinced he was miserable. All I know is that he seemed fine when I got back. And he never once said anything bad about his time with her.

_Voyager_ was in spacedock for four days in December, and Kathryn was very pleased that it meant Gabe and I were able to spend Christmas Day at Gretchen's house, experiencing some of their Christmas traditions and meeting some of her extended family. They certainly made us feel welcome. And we got to know a few of the family characters – like Aunt Martha. She's one truly formidable woman.

The day after Christmas Day, I had to leave on a mission without Gabriel. We'd only just gone to warp when I got an urgent message from Kathryn. She told me that he'd gone out to play in the snow at Gretchen's and he'd slipped and fell when he was climbing over an icy gate. He broke his wrist. I spoke to him not long afterwards and he seemed fine. The whole thing seemed to shake Kathryn up far more than it did him. She said she couldn't stop feeling guilty that she hadn't supervised him more closely. The same way that she pretty much had kittens on Christmas Day when he opened one of the presents she'd wrapped for him – a little penknife that used to belong to her father. He loved it. But, the very first time he pulled the blade out, he promptly sliced his thumb open. Then Aunt Martha clucked her disapproval and Kathryn took it to heart.

It has to be said that her Aunt Martha takes the Janeway propensity for stubbornness to new heights. Once she discovered Gabriel's middle name, she started calling him Gabriel-Edward. Whenever anyone pointed out it's actually Eduardo, after his grandfather, and it's not a hyphenated first name, she seemed to grow significantly more hard-of-hearing. She told Gretchen several times how glad she was Kathryn had named him after her father. Later, Gretchen took me aside. She apologised, saying that no matter what anyone said, Aunt Martha had gotten it into her head that Gabriel is our secret love-child from our first seven years in the Delta Quadrant. She seemed intent on telling anyone who'd listen. And she kept giving Kathryn knowing winks and telling her she needn't be ashamed. It drove Kathryn crazy that her aunt wouldn't listen to reason. Can't say I really minded.

People who don't know us obviously presume he's our son. I'm comfortable with that, but Kathryn seems to feel the need to offer an explanation more often than not. As for Gabriel, it's hard to know how he feels yet. The other day at the end of class, while I was listening to his teacher telling me about his work, I could hear one of the younger boys talking to him behind me. They didn't realise I could hear. The younger boy said, "Wooah! You never said your dad was a captain!" Then I turned just enough to surreptitiously watch Gabe. He didn't say anything in reply; he just smiled and shrugged.

We've been pleased that he seems to have settled okay in the 'fleet school he and Miral and the other _Voyager_ children attend when we're on Earth. The teacher tells us he seems to live in his head quite a bit and he's often rather serious and quiet, but he's well-liked by the other children and he's a good student. We've been told to keep offering him opportunities to talk about his grandfather's death, and his life on Bajor. We do, but, so far, he hasn't said much to either of us. He'll answer questions about his life there, but he doesn't volunteer information. He's healthy though, and, as far as any of us can tell, he seems happy enough. I was scared at first that he'd miss the community he grew up in. But so far, my fears on that score don't appear to have been realised.

Kathryn scared the hell out of me just after we decided to have Gabriel live with us though. She suddenly took an uncharacteristic interest in maintaining her own health by voluntarily taking herself to Jarem for her overdue routine physical. She'd been in there about half an hour when he called me down to join them. That was one long 'lift ride. My heart was pounding in my ears. The minute I walked in, however, the look on Kathryn's face banished any fears I had.

"Look, Chakotay!" She gestured towards the data still on the screen of Jarem's workstation. "No wonder I've been feeling good."

Jarem moved so I had a clearer view.

"Dr Kaz tells me that these readings suggest that I have the metabolic age of someone approximately ten years younger than my chronological age."

I looked between the screen and the two of them in surprise.

Jarem pointed to the rows of data on the screen. "All her internal organs seem to have somehow rejuvenated slightly, and her bone density, her hormone levels, reproductive system are more like those of a woman of thirty than one who's closer to fifty."

Kathryn had beamed back at me. "I know when I first returned, I was told I was in excellent health, but this… Well, it's remarkable!"

"How is it possible?" I asked.

"I have no idea," Jarem replied. "All I can tell you is the state of things now. And I wanted to see you too, Chakotay, because as soon as I saw these readings, I realised there was a connection."

"How so?" I frowned.

"The improvement in your health has obviously been noticeable too," he replied. "But I put it down to your renewed interest in maintaining your fitness levels for the past couple of years. But, now that I have the data from the Admiral's physical, I compared the two." He leans in and pulls up the results of my latest scans. "You can see that exactly the same vital systems have been affected in exactly the same way. The rejuvenation goes deeper with the Admiral, but still, it seems like far too much of a coincidence to me. I think Q did you both some pretty big favours."

"Isn't it extraordinary?" Kathryn marvelled.

"It is."

"So," Jarem told her, "if you ever wanted to try to beat Chakotay at hoverball, Admiral, now's the time to try. He may be in pretty good shape himself, but, right now, I'd fancy your chances."

Kathryn smirked a little and poked me in the ribs. "I might just follow the good Doctor's advice on that one. Fancy a game later?"

I was still lagging behind though. "Do you mean to say we've somehow stopped ageing?"

"No," Jarem replied. "Your cells are decaying exactly as I'd expect now. But, it's as if someone simply turned the Admiral's body clock back almost ten years – and yours five maybe – and then set them going again."

"I have been feeling pretty good this past year," I mused.

"And I've noticed that ever since my return, I seem to be able to go without sleep the way I often did on _Voyager_ the first time," Kathryn added, "but without having to pay for it in the same way the next day." Then she turned to Jarem and smiled. "Thank you, Doctor. You've given us a lot to think about."

I walked back to deck three in something of a daze that evening. It was a couple of weeks after she'd invited me back into her life – and her bathtub. So, once I'd regrouped, I suggested it was only right that we tested our unexpected gifts of youthful health and vigour to their limits straight away. I convinced her that I could think of far better ways than playing hoverball.

Ever since then, things between us have been very good. Better than very good. I'm so grateful the fates have granted me yet another chance at happiness with Kathryn. What was it Tom called me the other day? Chief of the Tribe of Second Chances? And people object to my sense of humour… Anyway, I don't intend to waste a minute of the time we have together from now on.

We've been here at Sekaya and Kalem's now for a week. It's been the best vacation I can remember – although it's not as if I've actually had any in the past decade I could compare it to. We spent a part of every day swimming. It seems as if there are beaches and lakes of unparalleled beauty at the end of every dirt track on this planet. And it's been great that Kathryn and I have been able to spend some time alone together while my sister's family entertain Gabriel.

Kalem is great with him. They seemed to bond instantly. It was only a matter of minutes before Kalem announced to everyone that Gabriel's kind and patient manner with the girls makes him a great big brother, and it's time Kathryn and I started to work on providing him with siblings. She usually laughs off comments like that one with an elegant swish of her hand, but this time, she surprised me.

"Well," she'd said, smiling an uncharacteristically shy smile at Kalem. "I have to confess I've had the same thought myself."

Then she turned my way and leant in, dropping her next words close to my ear. "What do you think? For my part, I might consider having our own child, as long as you can promise me one at least as gorgeous as my goddaughter or her brother, or as adorable as these two," she added, looking at my little nieces. She smirked a little at the surprise on my face. Then she shrugged, adding, "Neither of us were only children, after all. Perhaps a sibling would be good for him."

I think Sekaya overheard though, because she laughed and said, "You are an inspiration, Kathryn. You have overcome so many obstacles. No amount of upheaval seems to throw you off course!"

Kathryn quirked an eyebrow. "Oh I don't know about that," she'd replied. "But, my life has been far from uneventful since I returned, and it was far from uneventful before. These days, I can't imagine why I ever thought that would change."

XxX

I'm brought back to the present by movement at the entrance to the restaurant and a flash of blue as she walks in. I've barely taken my eyes off the door since I got here. From my seat I have a clear view of the area where diners are greeted as they come in, so I see her the minute she arrives.

I won't deny the spirits are dancing a little in my belly. This isn't something I've ever done before.

Given we're already parenting a child together, we own an apartment together and I know she has nothing against the institution _per se_ , and, most importantly, we're happy – very happy – I've been telling myself that there really shouldn't be much chance she'll say no. The only thing that might make her cautious would be what happened with her previous relationships. But she doesn't usually hold with superstition of any kind. I'm hoping she won't decide to start now.

She takes in her surroundings, nods to Kalem behind the bar and makes her way over to greet him. As I watch her, I know I'll never tire of admiring the confident roll of her slim, shapely hips – accentuated right now by that fitted blue dress she knows I love, and the tilt of a pair of elegant stilettos. I'm not the only one whose eyes are tracking her progress across the room. I wouldn't mind betting she's the most class this restaurant has seen in a while. What's amazing to me, still, is that someone like her chose someone like me.

Kalem comes out from behind the bar and points me out to her. A wave from her hand tells me she'll be over in a minute. I can see that she's curious to cast a quick eye over the kitchens as per Kalem's earlier invitation. She disappears from view for a moment, only to reappear again immediately in my mind's eye, divested of all her clothing, as last night comes back to me. She's stretched out lazily on the bed, bathed in the light of the Marsadan moons and welcoming the slight breeze as it rustles the thin muslin-like drapes half-drawn over our open window. The strong sun here has dusted the delicious cream of her skin with specs of caramel – or toffee maybe. I haven't decided which yet. I need to conduct some more thorough research. Then my mind's eye decides to add tonight's stilettos to her slender feet in this picture. And I can still hear her playful drawl, telling me that I'll probably never get to see her new nightgown because the nights on this planet are so damn hot. Can't argue with that.

I look up again to see her walking towards me. There's a smile playing around the corner of her mouth before she's even made it to the table. I smile back. As she gets closer, I see our future in her eyes and I allow myself to fall willingly under her spell.

She knows. No doubt about it. She knows.

[The End]


End file.
